


the weekly bet (but the forever kind)

by theleftboobgrabber



Series: (betting on us) [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: (it's a 911 call not either of them), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Evan "Buck" Buckley, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), POV Eddie Diaz, Pining, Possessive Eddie Diaz, Shameless Smut, Soft Eddie Diaz, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family, abby comes back and there's a bet, cannon compliant until 3x15 after that i do what i want, himbos in love, idiots to lovers, they really are stupid, we respect shannon diaz in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleftboobgrabber/pseuds/theleftboobgrabber
Summary: When the squad bets on how long it will take for Buck and Abby to get back together when she comes back to LA, Eddie is forced to reconsider keeping his feelings for Buck a secret.“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark.“What for?”Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious.“Being you, idiot.”“And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy.Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle.But to the team, it wasn’t a matter ofifAbby would take him back, butwhen. A matter of days.
Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, Maddie Buckley/Howie "Chimney" Han
Series: (betting on us) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739368
Comments: 422
Kudos: 1913





	1. monday

**Author's Note:**

> so i have 30k or so of this, most of it done. i'll just update everyday until i reach chapter 8

Eddie knows the box.

Or at least, it’s familiar to him, just like Hen making the rounds around the firehouse, big cheeky smile on her face, calling odds and good naturally mocking anyone too shy to place a bet. It’s a common enough occurrence, something he snorts at, being the one mocked when he refuses to partake, even when he knows he would win.

It’s routine to them, and Hen would smile harder at him, walking away saying something along the line of “your loss, handsome,” and he would shrug, shaking his head but smiling. She’s right of course. With street fighting out of the question now, he’s back at taking as many shifts as he can put money on the side. So it’s indeed _his loss_ , but there’s something icky about betting against his coworkers, _his family_ for just a few bucks.

The last time he did, he was the only survivor.

126 dollars in small bills, crumpled and bloody, are hidden in a box under his bed, along with his dog tags and that damn silver star. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to spend that cash.

Hen would certainly stop asking him if he told her about his unit, but truth be told, he needs her asking, needs to be included, and the illusion of normalcy.

So when Hen produces the money box from under a cushion on Monday afternoon as Athena ascends the stairs and vaguely waves it at her, Eddie just snorts, knowing what’s to come. The sergeant kisses her husband first, leaving Hen hanging with her arm up in the air. 

“Don’t have all day ‘thena,” Hen urges.

Athena ignores her and sits herself snuggling against Bobby, who immediately puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her cheek. 

Eddie’s heart doesn’t lurch out of his chest with envy at them, _absolutely not_ , and how radiant they always look when they’re together. Hen’s the same with Karen, united and _constant_ ; and while Chim and Maddie are still a pretty recent thing, they’re disgustingly in love.

Eddie hates all of them.

Except he doesn’t. He just wants sure ground under his boots too, someone to hold and to be held by. Instead he feels like he’s been tangled up in a Black Hawk that’s losing altitude too fast, heading for a crash landing that never comes; up and down losing meaning, heart in his throat and threatening to burst with every agonizing minute of it all.

He bites his inner cheek, breathing deeply -and too loudly by the mildly concerned look Bobby throws his way. Cap doesn’t have time to do his preternatural _I see through your soul_ stare, because they’re distracted by Athena smuggly putting what looks like a 100$ in the box without blinking. While Bobby doesn't even raise his eyebrows in alarm, he does wolf whistles.

“Someone’s feeling mighty sure of herself,” Bobby says, a smile on his face as he shakes his head.

There’s heat between them Eddie should probably pretend he didn’t see, but Chim and Hen fan themselves, absolutely shameless.

“Sunday,” Athena announces, with that stone splitting assurance of hers that Eddie admires so much.

Bobby shakes his head again. “ _Friday_ ,” he counters, and extracts a few bills from his pocket, accurately throwing them in the box, to Hen’s delighted.

Eddie frowns above his book, but says nothing. Bobby rarely takes part in any betting and has been known to confiscate the firehouse heirloom and whatever cash is in it that’s from a bet he considers too shady, or taking too far. Expensive appliances and extra take out money appear around the kitchen soon after, and no one has yet to object at him putting his foot down. All told, it’s the… fourth time? that Eddie has witnessed Cap put money in there in the two years he’s been working at the 118.

Hen turns her attention to Chimney, waving the box right in front of his face, only missing his nose by accident.

He doesn’t disappoint, dramatically unloading two wads of cash from his pockets. “Maddie says Wednesday, at 50. I say Friday too, at 70, but if she asks, you tell her I trusted her, okay?” he asks his co-conspirators, and Hen nods earnestly before her laugh explodes in the station, amplified by the rafters above their heads.

She’s infectious and a smile forces its way on Eddie’s face, as clueless as he is right now.

Athena stares at Chim inquisitively for a moment, like she’s ready to pounce on a suspect. “Your boo got inside intel?”

Chim makes a face, like he’s not feeling so good about contradicting his girlfriend. “She thinks she does, but there’s stuff no boy tells to his si-” Chimney trails off, unsubtle when he fully turns toward Eddie like he just remembered he’s there, _Ooops_ written all over his face, cartoon-like to a fault. “Anyway. _I’m positive on Friday_ ,” he nods at the rest, high fiving Bobby.

All the while Hen has her bookie face on, making a mental tally of who betted how much, and for what. Of course now Eddie is properly interested, at least for entertainment value, about the nature of the bet. 

He waits patiently, one eye on his book, one eye on her, as she never fails to tempt him even if he never fails to decline.

But after a few other firefighters approach the couch and put on small bets -nothing as extravagant as their little core group- Hen humms in satisfaction and replaces the box under a cushion like it totally hides it, clearly done for the moment.

Eddie is about to comment on her bypassing him when Buck storms up the stairs, looking disheveled and… _sweaty_.

He’s only wearing a short and his running shoes, but there’s a rather wet looking t-shirt passed through one of his belt loops. He looks like a frat boy on spring break -at least until he flops on the nearest couch, sweaty head falling in his hands, leg bouncing with nerve. After a second he seems to compose himself -too late, as Eddie’s specific Buck sirens are blaring in his head- and he takes off his aviators, tries to hang them on his shirt, only to remember he’s not wearing one, frowning at his naked chest in confusion. He ends up playing with them as he catches his breath. By the state of him, he must have gone for a long run, and Eddie cannot help but shoot a worried glance at his scared up leg. 

_You’re pushing too hard._

He swallows back the words and the feral need to give him a good shake, and kiss some sense into him.

“I thought little Buckaroo didn’t work today,” Athena says when Buck doesn’t say a thing, not even in greeting.

“Did you just come here on your day off to bet?” Eddie asks, making his voice as teasing as possible, because there’s a lot of sweaty skin going on not three feet away from him, and making fun of Buck is his to-go distraction… Anything but dealing with the need to put his hands on his best friend's broad chest and just- _fuck_. 

_I rather go into a house on fire naked._

Buck stares at him blankly, while from the corner of his eye Hen and Chim are furiously shaking their heads, _shut up shut up!_

“I don’t think Buck would find it interesting to bet on which college May is going to attend come September, Eddie,” Athena says smoothly, poker face on.

Eddie frowns at the obvious lie, not liking what the connecting dots are shaping.

“Uh, yeah, sorry ‘thena, but I’ll pass on that one.” Buck manages to give her a smile, because he loves her and May. Then he shoots up from the couch like a tightly wounded jack-in-a-box, radiating nervousness. “Bobby, do you have, like, a minute? I know you’re working-”

Bobby gestures at him with a paternal _say no more_ expression on his face, kissing the top of Athena’s head as he gets up and waves Buck toward his office so they can talk in private. 

Buck’s in before Bobby can take a few steps, almost running in there. The look Cap gives all of them above his shoulder is chilling, and worried enough to match Eddie’s concern.

The second the door closes behind them, Eddie’s eyes glued to Buck’s back in worry rather than, well, rather than whatever he sometimes feels down his pants, he’s hit with not one, but _two pillows_ , and finds himself on the receiving end of three death glares.

“What-”

“YOU FUCKER CAN’T YOU BE A LITTLE DISCREET-” “Way to near ruin it Eddie-” “-big bucks at stake here buddy, don’t ruin-” Hen and Chim shout whispers at him.

Athena’s more restrained, only shaking her head, but in a way that spells trouble.

“ _What. the. Hell guys?_ ” he returns in kind, book forgotten, and chill lost. He points widely at Bobby’s office. “What’s happening with Buck?” 

He’s not used to being the last one to know when something is eating at Buck, and he doesn’t like it at all.

The three of them glances at each other for a moment, Hen and Athena shaking their heads, _no_ written all over their faces. But Chim looks contrite, and mutters, “Maddie told me that Abby is back.”

Athena slaps his shoulder for his trouble, a warning on her face that Hen mirrors. Eddie doesn’t miss the way her hand goes to rest on the pillow “hiding” the money box by reflex, or the way her cheeks darken when she notices Eddie frowning at her gesture.

His eyes go back to Chimney, waiting for him to elaborate because he has no clue who’s- it hits him.

“ _Abby?_ ” he exclaims, too loud, too shocked, everyone shushing him, his brain supplying him a kaleidoscope of Buck’s pitiful face, heartbroken over _her_ for months. “Buck’s invisible girlfriend?”

Athena graces him with one of her famous “mhmm,” looking pointedly to Bobby’s office.

Eddie nods, like he understands.

Truth is, he doesn’t. He had only seen the aftermath, not the _before_ , not the _during_ . By the time Eddie had been hired, she was long gone to _find herself_ , but Buck was still chasing after her ghost. It was clear to Eddie that Buck, sweet Buck, inexperienced in the matter of love, really had thought she was the one, and was faithfully waiting like the loyal puppy he will always be on the side of the road for his owner to come back.

Except she never did, and the puppy had tears in his eyes, and would sniffle around the station for days, morphing into a moody asshole when it got clear that she kept on being busy, and away… and that she wasn’t keeping him in her heart the same way he was doing. She was just ghosting the fuck out of him: leaving her best life, while he was haunting her flat, truly left behind without so much as a clear cut. Then came the breaking point, and the relief that came with it to see a man Eddie had come to think as his best friend finally accepting it, and letting it go. Letting her go.

Eddie kinda hated her guts, but in a distant, aimless, _that’s my best friend’s heart you’re breaking lady_ . It’s not like Buck would have listened to anyone about this. Chances, he would have punched Eddie for so much as suggesting he had more than the right to be pissed. Also, the woman was on a different continent, so hating her ( _just kinda_ ) was a moot point.

Until now.

“Eddie, your mouth is going to stay stuck like that if you don’t stop twisting it that hard,” Chim says, clearly aiming for levity but failing short, the worried tone in his voice easy to hear.

Eddie forces his face _off_ , but he only ends up clenching his jaw so hard it hurts.

“‘m fine.” The idiocy of the lie almost makes him pass out in embarrassment. “ _I’m fine_ ,” he says again, his tone final, but none of them seem convinced and their collective staring is a physical weight against the side of his face. 

He needs to stop staring at Bobby’s office, needs to stop feeling like he has to barge in there and wrap Buck in a tight hug. Any second now. Anyyyy second.

Someone mutters “ _Jesus_ ,” and that’s enough of that.

What he needs is to leave and bury himself in some hole where he can’t be examined like this. He gets up- but he has barely made his way to the stairwell that he stops abruptly. He turns around back to them, furious.

Dots finally connected.

“Abby? _The bet?_ Really, guys?” he snarls, reduced to an attack dog.

That's why Hen didn’t try to get him involved.

Athena gives him a level stare, clearly not liking his tone, but while Eddie probably wouldn’t have tried his luck going toe to toe against Sergeant Athena fucking Grant any other day, right now he doesn’t care. 

There’s a smirk on her face, something that says, _come at me you fool boy._ “Now I’m not saying that we don’t enjoy a little money at Buckaroo’s dumbass expense from time to time, but are you really that far up your own ass that you believe Bobby would bet on that kid’s broken heart?”

Eddie deflates, feeling every inch the fool boy her eyes were calling him. Bobby loves each of them, but _Buck’s like his son_. 

“Seeing sense, are we?” Athena goes for the kill, “Now run along soldier boy, we wouldn’t want your precious ears ruined by our complete lack of common decency about a boy we all adore.” _And she shoo him_ , dismissing him with an ease he wishes he could learn, as she turns her attention back to Chim and Hen.

The two paramedics are making a lot of effort not to guffaw at this dressing down, all the while glaring at him, looking hurt that he believed they were betting… whatever he thought they were betting on. It’s stupid. They wouldn’t do that. Unless... Athena said Bobby wouldn't bet on Buck's broken heart. What about him getting back with his first love?

Problem is, when Buck is concerned, Eddie either doesn’t do a lot of thinking, or his brain goes into overdrive. 

He nods to himself, mouth twisting from left to right and glances one last time at Bobby’s office, before deciding the ladder truck could use more shine, _now_.


	2. tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no restrain and i should be in bed

It’s a slow day.

Beside two broken legs on a construction site, and a microwave fire that was under control before they got there, they enjoyed the calm. That, and glaring daggers at a group of teenagers from behind Boddy. Cap is hoarse from shouting, shaming them into fire safety, because those idiots had been _dying to see what actually happens if you put metal in a microwave_.

(Someday, one of the squad might die because people are stupid and reckless, and they all know it, so they take vicious pleasure in Cap loosing his marbles, verbaly evicerating idiots)

  
***

On the ride back to the station, Buck waves at him and asks, dead serious, “Hey you think the llama piñata from Fortnite is cultural appropriation?”

“What.”

Chim mutters under his breath, “ _this is gonna be good_.”

“I kinda want to take one plushie for Chris’ birthday, but I don’t want to, like, get him something insensitive,” Buck explains, big blue eyes so earnest Eddie might just need a time out to deal with how he feels when Buck looks at him like that.

 _Fuck_. This is nonsensical Bucklism at its finest, and Eddie’s confusion is only matched by his fondness for the massive teddy bear in front of him. Vaguely, he remembers that one of the teenagers from the call had a Fortnite shirt on with the purple piñata grinning maniacally at them.

“Pretty sure my kid doesn't need more plushies, Buck.”

“Sounds like a dad whose son is getting A LOT of plushies coming Friday,” Hen jokes, checking his shoulder with hers. “We could probably open a Build-A-Bear with everything Denny got over the years,” she adds, wistful. 

“ _But is it okay?_ ” Buck insists. “Or is your Abuela gonna chase me ‘round the house with a broom?”

Eddie shrugs dramatically, before he drawls, “You know what? I’ll ask her opinion. Not that I really want to spend three hours explaining Fortnite to my Abuela, but if you insists-”

“Hey! Don’t make fun of me!” Buck throws him his jacket.

He’s indignant and cute, and Eddie’s almost sorry to rile him up over his concern for appropriate gifts to his son. But his pout is too endearing to resist.

“And your concern is noted, Evan,” he placades. “Just get him some firefighter toys, he’ll be thrilled either way by whatever you get for him.”

Buck doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but doesn’t press. 

Eddie can’t only witness his furrowed brows from the corner of his eye, and the shy, private smile on his lips as he looks out the truck window.

He’s so fucked.

***

That was hours ago, and no other call came in, leaving the squad idle for cores and games.

Dinner comes around, and still no bell, so Bobby excitingly takes the big pots out and starts on a big supper, Buck eager to help, shadowing his steps and nodding along whatever Bobby teaches him.

Athena stops by half an hour later when everything is ready, swagger and uniform firmly on, so she can have an actual meal in the middle of her shift.

About the betting situation, Eddie knows nothing more besides that everyone seems to be involved and talking about it- not to him, or Buck for that matter, all of them shutting up and changing subjects as soon as either of them gets close. Buck’s a little too oblivious, but Eddie’s no fool. He caught the few disappointed looks on some of his coworkers’s faces after talking with Hen, and stuff being crossed out from her bookie notebook. While he doesn’t know the exact nature of the bet, he’s sure Buck is a big part of it -not in a mean way, but still. So he’s been watching his friend like a hawk all day, worried by the bet and Abby’s return. 

Buck himself seems… fine.

Still Buck, who cracks broad, cheeky smiles and small, earnest ones; who bursts out laughing like joy is his only setting. Sweet Buck, golden and shiny, but with an undercurrent of tension under his skin, behind his eyes. Moments of silence, stretched too long, his mood just broody enough, his voice quiet enough that Eddie had his hackles properly raised just a few hours into their shift, ready to shake him or hug him if Buck only gives him a hint of what’s going on.

 _But he hasn’t_.

No text, no calls. No spilling his guts the second he and Eddie were alone in the locker room at the beginning of their shift. If it wasn’t for Chim giving it up, Eddie wouldn’t know what’s bugging his best friend, and he’s sure that Buck hasn’t said a word about it to anyone beside Bobby.

(How Buck is under the impression that what he says to Maddie in confidence doesn’t make its way to the station is insane, bless his heart).

Across from him at the table, Buck winces -not the first time since he showed up for this shift- his left hand aborting its movement to his right forearm like he really needs to scratch it. He sighs deeply, controls the urge and starts shoveling food in his mouth again, Eddie pretending he’s not staring at him in fond disgust.

After a few rinse and repeat cycles of this, Buck lets escape a frustrated groan and gives up on whatever restrain he had. He puts his fork down before gingerly pushing the sleeve of the LAFD hoodie up his arm, revealing a taped bandage on his forearm right next to the inside of his elbow.

It’s spotted with blood.

“ _Fuck Evan!_ ” is out of Eddie’s mouth before he can rail down his emotions. He has seen too many bloody bandages on Buck for a lifetime. Rapid fire adrenaline slams into him, winding him. Rage, fear and longing playing fucking Cirque Du Soleil with his heart.

His shock is drowned in the entire table’s worry, all of them demanding an explanation, and an explanation now.

Buck has _the audacity_ to roll his eyes, like he wasn’t on blood thinners only a few months ago and a scratch could have been a death sentence. 

“ _Cálmate Eddito_ ,” he says, dismissing him, cheeky as fuck and Eddie might pop a vein. “Chim and I just got tattoos this morning.”

Anger and jealousy replace fear in a second. his blood runs hot, the need to shout _mine!_ near overpowering.

Buck’s blind to the possessive rage in Eddie and gently back slaps Chimney’s chest next to him, forcing a small moan of pain from the other man.

“BUCK!”

And then they’re roughhousing on the floor, two over sized toddlers fighting over a toy. It’s almost funny. Bobby and Athena are looking at each other like the long suffering parents they are, while Hen is on her feet, edging Chim to go for the pretty face.

Bobby tries a “children, please” but to no avail, and they continue trading bitch slaps and choke holds, honor evidently depending on it.

Athena clears her throat. Her “Don’t make me break out the cuffs, _or call Maddie_ ,” said in a low threatening tone immediately has Buck and Chimney back into their feet, and then their chairs, looking ruffled but fine. “I’m pretty sure that needs a new bandage Buckaroo,” she says with both concern and annoyance as she points at his forearm.

Buck squirms on his chair. “I have paramedics at the ready,” he answers dramatically, his large blue eyes sparkling as he gestures to both Chim and Hen, beaming at them, “don’t you worry ‘thena, or else I might think you care about me.”

She snorts, shaking her head. Her eyes are warm though, and Eddie’s remembers her cold outrage at _him_ yesterday. She adores Buck, and the little shit knows it, using it to cute his way out of trouble with ease.

Chim unbuttons his dress shirt with an annoyed sigh, exposing his already tattooed pec, and the bandage right under it that covers the new one. The taped bandage is pristine, but he still glares at his future brother-in-law.

“You-” Eddie stops, working real hard to swallow the accusatory tone back down his throat. “You and _Chim_ got tattoos?”

Even without the silence around the table or the kicked puppy Buck gives him, Eddie would have heard the resentment in his voice.

Fuck.

Buck looks like he wants to crawl under the table and Eddie well, he tries, _he tries so so hard_ to stop with the withering glare but- he feels fucking cheated right now.

“Whoa whoa, calm down cowboy, we didn’t get _matching tattoos_ ,” Chim says, talking fast, hands in the air, ready to defuse the bomb that Eddie has turned into, shirt still undone in his haste. “Unless Buckaroo got the date me and Maddie met, that is.” Both of them make a face, _ewing_ in unison at his joke. “Not that a matching 118 tattoo didn’t cross my mind, but someone is scared of needles and someone else is _against tattoos_ ,” he adds, looking squarely at Bobby and Hen.

Bobby shudders, his hand searching for Athena’s blindly and squeezing it for dear life. “Don’t even joke about it.”

“I never said you guys couldn’t get the 118 tattooed on your butts, but that would be without me,” Hen says, waving Chim’s away.

“It’s not the same if it’s not all of us,” Buck mutters, arms crossed and eyes on his plate, before he chances a look at Eddie.

Eddie who’s clutching his kitchenware so hard his knuckles are white. He puts them down with too much force, and Buck looks away real quick.

Beside him, Chim is still in damage control mode, enthusiastically gesturing at Buck and his tattooed forearm, which really should clue in Eddie how big of an possessive ass he’s being right now. “His tattoos took _foooorever_ to make, though I must say that I was impressed how well he took it.”

“I have lots of tattoos,” Buck boasts, macho streak coming to the surface despite the sullen and hurt expression that Eddie put there. 

(It shouldn’t be hot. But it is. _Fuck it is_ )

“Yeah, but Maddie told me what a massive ticklish wuss you are,” Chim mocks, looking at him like teasing him is the greatest joy he’ll ever have down this Earth. “But my boy here didn’t even so much as flinch,” he adds after a second, putting his arm around Buck’s shoulders.

Buck grins, preening a little, before his entire face backtrack to what Chim said first. “ _Did you just call me a wuss??!_ ”

“No, Maddie called you a wuss. A ticklish one,” Chim presses, glancing at Eddie like he just did him a HUGE favor.

“Whatever. It’s just a tattoo,” Buck says, putting his hoodie sleeve back in place, his entire demeanor shouting the opposite. “Since you’re such a jerk, Hen will have the honor of playing doctor with me.”

He winks in her direction.

Hen micmicks vomiting. “ _No thank you_.”

“So can we know what you got inked or…” Eddie trails off.

At this point, everyone at the table probably knows he’s feeling robbed. The number of times he and Buck talked about getting tattoos together, matching or not, and then he goes with _Chim_. 

Buck looks, well, like a buck caught in the headlights. Shifty. Unsure. “Uh, I-I guess y’all have to wait and see.”

#### ***

Of course, the calm couldn’t hold up until the end of their shift.

Fire always spreads, and fast, and by the time it takes them to arrive on the scene, two more houses are burning high, and the firefighters from the 112 already on site shout at them to hurry the fuck up.

A third squad is stuck in traffic, and the 118 has barely made it through, Bobby radioing dispatch along the way, giving the plate numbers of every asshole refusing to let them pass.

All the neighborhood had been evacuated out of their houses, the wind too strong, too dry to be trusted not to spread more sparkles to a fourth, fifth or _sixth house_ . All over, people are crying, children are whaling their lungs out and a few of them are clearly, _painfully_ , mourning more than their homes.

It’s like a war zone, and Eddie would know.

Bobby shouts at them to go make the rounds on the last house that caught fire, and he and Buck stay close in the inferno, pretty sure that if they find someone, it will be too late.

Then Buck falls. The visibility is shit, and he falls on the floor and Eddie is already pulling him up, screaming at him they need to go when he sees the body Buck stumbled on.

Carrying the victim outside is quick, neither of them could have stayed in that house for a minute more and Buck runs with the- Eddie can’t tell with the smoke and the burns if the victim was a man or a woman. The second he puts them down and clears off for Hen and Chim to take over, Buck falls again, on his ass this time, Eddie kneeling by his side, quickly checking him out for any injuries.

It takes a glimpse at the victim, burnt all over, for Eddie to know he won’t be able to sleep that night and he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the images, trying to go deaf as Chim calls falling stats, and Hen tries to intubate, melted skin coming off where she’s touching the victim face and-

Eddie shoots up, forcing Buck to follow and drag him along, because if either of them stay by the vic, it won’t end well. He has seen too much as an army medic to let Buck witness that too when he can just hand it off and try to stop this hell from taking more lives.

***

It takes them hours to kill the fires, light dying in the sky, houses blazing like torches in the night for so long Eddie can barely recall a world that isn’t on fire. It’s hard fought, and a fourth house has to be hosed down because the wind seemed set on taking one more with it tonight. 

The ride back to the station is quiet, all of them exhausted, all shivering now that the sooty sweat they’re drenched in is cooling down.

Eddie’s hands are shaking. After a night like this, it feels odd not to have the cold comfort of a weapon with him, the adrenaline shock kicking his brain back to Afghanistan with too much ease. He doesn’t like it, like falling through time, every step he took forward since canceled. He’s on the edge of making a few calls and arranging a fight, and he knows it. But he can’t. He promised. Instead, he makes note of the feeling, and decides, bleary eyed and exhausted, that he will bring it up with his therapist.

That’s still a novel concept. But it must be working if he can breath out some of the paralyzing panic thinking about his next session, and that soon he will have words to put on his feelings.

***

The minute the truck stops, Bobby calls for their attention. 

“Okay guys I know we’re flayed, but we still have five hours to this shift,” he reminds them, non unkindly, but with firmness that reminds Eddie of every commanding officer he ever had. “Hit the showers, y’all smell riper than a rutting possum. Then eat something, get some shut eyes,” he orders, blinking away his own fatigue.

If Eddie’s bone tired at thirty something, he can’t even begin to understand how Bobby’s still standing at fifty.

They follow his lead in silence.

Death isn’t a stranger in this job, but there’s something so absolutely heart wrenching about putting out a fire just as a second one roars to life, taking more people with it. And the burns… that victim he and Buck got out is haunting the back of his eyelids just like he knew they would, and he can feel how uneasy the entire team is over it.

 _And the smell_.

Like cooking meat.

The horror of burnt flesh keeps clinging to his turn out gear, to his own skin, buried deep in his nose, and that even after a shower.

At that comes the added guilt growing in his stomach. If he feels bad for the victim, his fear for himself and Buck is squeezing his heart and lungs. Bobby doesn’t enter fire a lot these days, and Hen and Chim are safe most of the time… but he and Buck... _First in, last out_. And that poor son of a bitch, they were burnt so bad their clothes had melted with the skin, leaving a vaguely human face and nothing else.

One day that can be them. It just takes one bad call, tripping in the smoke, one floor collapsing or smoke too thick to find their way out before they’re cooked through and through.

Eddie groans, trying to forget that surgeons are currently stripping the victim from their clothes, taking the skin away with them in one gooey mess. Now he feels like puking, and he can’t even look at his hands to check the pain is imaginary because the light in the bunk room was shut off a while ago, but he still cannot sleep.

It’s too silent in the room. Tensed silence. No one is snoring, or mumbling, or mindlessly shifting in their sleep, and like Eddie, they all must be staring at the vague ceiling above their head, seeing fire.

He hears a rustle of bedding and massive muscles moving to his left. A glance reveals Buck’s barely there silhouette, pushing himself into a sitting position. He’s been doing that a lot, turning around at least a hundred times, heavy breathing and then dead silence. 

Eddie has to restrain himself from getting up to hug the other man for dear life, for both their sake.

Buck flops back into his bed, sighing deeply. Tense isn’t strong enough a word to cover how it sounds.

Then he springs back sitting up, inhales loud as fuck like he’s about to shout, but belts out instead, “YOU ARE- MY FIIIIIIRE!”

Somehow, that isn’t what Eddie had braced himself for. He whispers, “ _Buck, no_.”

“THE ONE- DESIIIIRE,” he continues in the now stunned silence.

Chim joins him, reluctant but incapable of resisting the pull from the opposite side of the room, getting into it quick enough.

Both croon, “BELIEVE WHEN I SAAAY, I WANT IT THAT WAAAAY!”

By the time Hen’s bellowing, “ _TELL ME WHYYYYY_ ,” Buck and Chim have gotten up their respective beds, shadow shapes doing some dumb boy band choreography that leaves Eddie fighting a smile.

He gives up.

“AIN’T NOTHING BUT A HEARTACHE!” Buck sings, and Eddie _feels_ that down to his bones and he pushes up to his elbows and joins the three of them for the “I WAAAAANT IT THAT WAAAAYYY!”

They continue for a while, singing dumb love songs, the only people in the room anyway -in the station too, bar from Bobby, that is either dead asleep or cursing them at the moment. They sing until Chim is hoarse and chuckling more than singing, until he stops after a while. They sing until Hen’s voice is down to a whisper. Until Eddie’s just listening to Buck butchering Fireproof with more heart than Eddie’s nieces ever had, just softly now.

He stop eventually, and the tension has run out of them, leaving them exhausted for all the good reasons, and feeling so fucking alive that if Eddie was a braver man, he would leave his bed and do something reckless. 

He doesn’t think he could love Evan Buckley more. _And there it is_. But he’s just Eddie, and Eddie is scared. And not brave. At least not when Buck’s concerned.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark.

“What for?”

Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious.

“Being you, _idiot_.”

“And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy.

Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle.

That’s how he falls asleep, so fucking full of love he dreams of overfilled balloons, up up in the air, ready to burst.

They sleep soundly, no more calls, no more sirens, until the relief shift shows up.


	3. wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's wednesday in france, so update! tho i'm kinda worried no one is left standing after Eddie begins and honestly after THAT slap i regret using the crashing black hawk metaphor so so so bad

_They sleep soundly, no more calls, no more sirens, until the relief shift shows up._

On his way out the station, his eyes are glued on Buck’s back, the way his shirt is overstretched across his shoulders, hugging his biceps so fucking close it digs into skin like Eddie craves to. And his ass, _fuck_ , he’s staring at that ass just because. 

Buck reaches back to fish out his phone from his back pocket and Eddie is looking, he’s always looking, when Buck’s stretching on the couch, yawning; when he rolls his head on his shoulders and a little moan of relief escape him; when he’s taking the stairs two at a time, long legs on display and that ass… He’s always watching Buck, always hyper aware of his body, always too close, always too far, always glorious. Except now he can only see the clean bandage on his forearm.

The tattoo.

 _Abby_.

This is why Eddie doesn't ask for miracles.

He beelines for his car, needing to get out of here _now_ , ignoring his squad as they call his name in concern. And if he shuts his car door with too much force, slamming it really, if he leaves burning rubber, well. It has been a long shift, and traffic’s a real bitch, but he might beat it if he’s fast enough and gets back home or he’ll miss Christopher waking up.

***

**> >> are u ok?**

is waiting for him when he turns his phone back on after pulling and parking into his driveway.

 _I could ask you the same question,_ Eddie thinks. He doesn’t ask, though, feeling petty. Buck hasn’t told him about Abby yet, and it stings.

The house is pleasantly silent when he gets in and he puts his keys, phone and wallet down without answering anything at all. He’s not happy about ignoring Buck, but right now he can’t- he gives so much space to this hopeless thing in his chest already. Being that all the time, without respite, without exhaling, it can’t be good. 

For once, Buck stays in his phone, and Eddie can focus.

He checks first on Chris before anything else, then on his Abuela in the guestroom: both are sound asleep and he lets them be, heading back for the kitchen for a snack. He’s still tired, still aching from the triple fire from last night. A couple more hours of sleep wouldn’t be too much and then it will be time for Christopher to get up for school.

There’s a pile of drawings waiting for him on the counter and Eddie finds himself smiling. The one thing he did right, and it’s this kid. _His kid_. 

He goes through it while eating half burnt toast with too much butter and honey on them (Bobby would _and should_ be appalled), careful to wipe off one of his hands before he shuffles through the many, many loose pages.

It’s Christopher’s world in bold, mismatched colors. 

Himself, Eddie, Abuela, one of Shannon with wings up in the sky above their house, that brings tears to Eddie’s house, tía Pepa with what’s look like a wooden spoon and an out of proportion candy in the other hand, Eddie again with a fire truck, and Buck, _fuck_ , so many drawings of Buck with them, characteristic blue eyes and blond hair, smudge of pink above his left eye and that grin of his, “my Bucky,” written again and again under the stick figures, just like Eddie is “My daddy,” in the drawings. 

He forces himself to swallow down his mouthful of toast. Buck is no longer trapped in his phone, reduced to an unanswered text.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to tell his son that Buck won’t hang out with them forever? That he’s just passing through, until he gets a family of his own? And sooner than they think?

***

Eddie sleeps. Wakes up. He feels like he’s suffocating until he wakes up Chris and can hug him for dear life. It’s been only them before. It can be only them again.

***

“Be good mijo at school and at Pepa tonight, eh? I’ll pick you up tomorrow after my shift,” he promises in Chris’ hair as he hugs him goodbye in front of the school.

“Can we see Buck then? If I’m good?”

Damn himself and Shannon for making that kid so darn cute.

“We’ll see,” he says, “Buck- he has lots of stuff to do. But you’ll see him on Friday for sure.”

And Eddie might as well be running an obstacle course with heart beating that fast, dodging the question, and his fears and his longing, running away from the simple truth.

(Buck is not theirs to keep, and it’s time the Diaz boys admit it)

Christopher looks skeptical, and none too pleased. “Lots of stuff?”

“Yes, mijo. It happens.”

“Stupid stuff,” he says. Everything that doesn’t go this way is stupid, it’s a great age. Really. He does that thing with his mouth that he can only have learned with Eddie, twisting it around his face when he’s unhappy. “I’ll be good anyway. Just to be sure.”

“‘Kay. Love you Chris!”

“Love you dad!” And at least he’s so bright and shiny when he says it Eddie can rest easy for the rest of the day about him.

He stops by the store and buy food he can’t cook on autopilot, goes back home, shove everything in cupboards and the fridge, until the only item in his hand is Buck’s favorite brand of cereal, and when the fuck did that happen?!

He cleans, and it’s all Chris’ toys everywhere.

Does the laundry, and it’s a terrifying mix of his, Chris’ and a few of Buck’s.

Eats something outta a box, missing Buck’s close to perfect meals.

And when he doesn’t have any more core to run around the house, he lets himself be overwhelmed by how empty and sad his home and his life are without Chris and Buck in them.

***

After that, it’s a long, looong afternoon of solitude since he doesn’t work until the next morning. He doesn’t know if Maddie won whatever bet they all made, but he couldn’t care less.

He. Couldn’t. Care. Less. _Hear that universe?_

No. He’s too busy spiraling, because he’s losing Buck. Well. Perhaps nothing as dramatic. Unless… Abby and not telling Eddie about her being back, secret tattoos, and all those evasive texts… though the last one, Eddie only has himself to blame. Fuck, the way he had been glaring at Buck last evening with the whole tattoo debacle. Not good. Then when he finally had answered Buck this morning, it was a simple _I’m fine_ , that probably fooled no one.

It’s just- _Eddie loves Buck_. A lot. Adore the man. His best friend. His partner. Basically his son’s co-parent.

And perhaps, Eddie might want more.

He snorts, _We’re well past mights and maybes_.

He wants more.

It had taken him a while to even admit that, to accept the pain in his chest was longing, and the heat in his veins was lust. He had struggled against it (in true Diaz men fashion), _against what it meant_ , first for him and his sexuality, and second for his relationship with Buck. And while he’s mostly okay with it now, it's kinda fucked up he had to choose his straight best friend to have a sexual awakening to.

The laugh that bubbles out of him at the thought tastes like sobbing. Who else could rock Eddie’s world better than Buck did though? Buck and his love for sledgehammers, go figure.

There’s no one else. And he wants more.

Just a little bit more, but at this point, with the level of intimacy and trust and love between them, a little bit more just… would amount to asking Buck to marry him.

(He’s been asking it a lot these past few weeks, disguised as _Jes_ _ú_ _s Buck take the last one_ , _You can crash here tonight_ , and _You want to grab lunch?_ , or _Stop. I can’t accept this, it’s too much_. It’s all he’s been saying to Buck all week, even when he was snarling about that damn tattoo he got with Chim. He’s fucked)

The imaginary Black Hawk that Eddie’s trapped in, headed for the ground, always heading for the ground barrel rolls in the air at increasing speed, and Eddie doesn’t know how long it’s going to take before he dies from a heart attack with the turbulence. Or… or how long he does something stupid -something brave. Both. And instead of keeping to himself all the glances and the thoughts and the need, _fuck_ , the constant need throbbing under his skin, to let it all out, just put his hands on Buck’s neck, caress his cheeks… 

It’s a full time job to resist.

When it started he didn't have a clue, and half of him still wishes it would stop. The other is vehemently begging for it to actually _begin._

It probably wasn’t when they were peacocking around the firehouse, loud macho routine and muscles bulging, Buck acting like a freaking fuckboy who’s king of the gym title was threatened. And if Eddie took a certain pleasure putting him back to his place, trying perhaps harder than he should, well. Eddie’s not immune to vanity. 

(Or perhaps that was a hook, _the hook_ , like Shannon’s _don’t care about your pretty face, Diaz_ attitude when they first met)

Buck’s concern during the earthquake sure is a milestone of a sort; asking who Eddie was worried about and offering reassurances all day. The way Buck had strongly directed him to his jeep after their shift, “You can’t drive buzzing like that, man” easy on his lips, driving him to Chris’ school despite his own exhaustion, driving them home and promising to pick up Eddie in the morning to retrieve his own car at the station the next day.

Or perhaps it was him carefully listening to Eddie’s ranting about his inability to care for his own son, and immediately offering help, and a long term solution in the person of Carla. Always there for Chris, always careful and ready to babysit, or simply to pick him up when Eddie couldn’t. All that easy love he offered the boy without a second thought had Eddie in awe. Buck didn’t so much as ask, but simply stood by Eddie a little bit too close and stole some weigh of his shoulders, demanding nothing in return, _accepting nothing in return_ , waving away babysitting money and thanks with a simple, heart wrenching to hear, “You know I love that kid, man.”

So Eddie had been a little bit smitten. So what? You could have man crushes without being actually attracted to other dudes.

Then Shannon and him tried again. And the mother of his son was more important than a crush, just like trying to fix his marriage, _his family_. All through that, Buck was there, cheering him on, supporting him through that emotional minefield. 

And finally holding him, hard, when he finally broke down after her death.

It was a million little things, and a million more big things. Buck sauntering around the firehouse with his mistletoe, demanding kisses out of everyone, pouting his way through the crowd; Buck doing CPR on that old man, and how wrecked he was that day long after Boddy stopped him; Buck stupidly stealing evidence, a second away from breaking down at the thought of losing Maddie; the way he laughs with his entire body, dragging people into the circle of his arms, radiant and deafening; Buck in the ambulance after the bomb, _leg destroyed_ , asking -no, _begging_ \- if he was the only one to make it out; Buck picking up Christopher and badly dancing around the kitchen, struck dumb when one of Chris’ crutches broke something, mouth in a perfect O; Buck’s obnoxious snickers when he was making fun of Eddie; Buck restrained, still trying to force his way back into whatever inferno Bobby called a lost cause; Buck, Buck, Buck, right there under his skin, rattling his bones in the _best way_ , in the _worst way_.

Buck after the tsunami, defensive, guilt ridden, bruised up and scarred, refusing to believe that Eddie could trust him with Chris ever again, like he hadn’t fought like a demon to save him, like he deserved nothing else but Eddie’s anger.

_Like he wanted it._

And he got it. The law suit. _Fucking hell_ . Oh there was stuff to be pissed about, lots of them, but Eddie couldn’t shout at Shannon for asking for divorce and dying before it could go though. He couldn’t shout at the ocean, or at Christopher for his nightmares and the way his son thought he had to put a brave face on not to upset _him_.

But he could shout at Buck. Selfish. Thoughtless. _Shortsighted_ Buck, that willingly cut himself away from them. And shouted Eddie did. God he had been so unfair and hurling all his pain at the wrong man.

Even the anger was born out of love, though. Because Eddie wouldn’t have been pissed that much if he didn’t rely on Buck for most things, if he wasn’t worried sick that Buck had destroyed any chances to come back to work, _where he belonged_. And for what? To hurt Bobby because the older man was so scared Buck would be hurt again and neither of them could communicate properly? 

Then he came back, but Eddie was still pissed -lots of things, terrible things, endless things. Pain and fear and stuff he shouldn’t have let fester after he retired from the military. Things that wake him up at night and haunt a box under his bed, a constant lump in his throat he swallows back all day long. All out now, sipping through his split lips and the cuts on his knuckles, blooming in each bruise, spitted out with the blood and saliva as he took punch after punch.

The street fighting had been such a stupid, reckless idea.

And he loved Buck’s concern for all his bruises even as he waved it away, lied through his teeth until he couldn’t, until Cap gave him a choice between _therapy_ or _unemployment_ . Buck pressed after that, asking questions Eddie couldn’t answer -not truthfully, _not to him-_ and oh so willing to take the blame for Eddie’s rage issues.

(And Buck’s cocksure attitude that he could take him in a fight? it drove fire down his veins. If Christopher had not been watching cartoons not ten feet from them, Eddie might have let it all out, all those things and feelings he keeps so close to his heart. Take the chance, take the chance, take the chance- but the cocksure attitude was just that. It wasn’t flirting, it wasn’t a _c’mon fuck me against the counter_ )

The man had organized an entire Christmas party with Athena so that everyone could be together despite their shift, despite all the horror of the year and the pain everyone was carrying around. Buck was made out of kindness and the need to be there for the people he loved.

And Eddie… Well Eddie just wanted all that care, all that love for himself and Chris. He was the most selfish asshole in the entire world, and a possessive one at that. And he wasn’t exactly sorry about it.

It works, mostly, since they are best friends basically attached at the hip and neither of them are dating.

At least, _it worked until now_ because Buck’s first love, great love, _lost love,_ is back in town, and it occurred to Eddie around beer number four that Buck might have gotten some grand gesture inked on his skin to win her back. Hell, everyone knew he would try to do it, _everyone literally betted on it_.

Wednesday for Maddie.

Friday for Chim and Bobby.

Sunday for Athena.

And whatever Hen had written for herself in that damn notebook of hers.

To them, it wasn’t a matter of _if_ Abby would take him back, but _when_ . A matter of _days_.

And Eddie was sulking in his pjs on his day off, already missing the sureness of having Buck by his side and trying desperately to fill that dreadful hole in his chest with beer.

He could go out. Should go out.

Christopher’s at school right now, and after that he’ll stay with his bisabuela for the night because Eddie has an early shift the next morning and can’t get him to school. He could go out and… pick someone. _Anyone_. That’s how people do it, right? What he used to do before Shannon. He knows what he looks like, how little effort it would take. Drive to a bar, order a beer, and women would just flock to him. Fuck all that frustration out of his system. Go home and sleep through the night.

Hopefully.

If only it had worked out with Ana. But she had seen right through him, even if she had assumed his hang ups about a new relationship were about Shannon, his dead wife, and not about his best friend (whom Eddie had to physically stop himself from mentioning everytime he went on and on about Christopher). The fact that Eddie had to put one of their dates on hold because Buck called around bedtime so Chris could say goodnight to him and he ended up on the phone with Buck for twenty minutes outside the restaurant, talking about his day after Chris was out cold couldn’t have helped his chance of getting a third date either.

So sure, dating is impossible, not with all those feelings, but a quick fuck could work out. He says it out loud. “A hookup wouldn’t hurt.” Again. This time with feeling. _“A hookup wouldn’t hurt.”_

It doesn’t steer any kind of interest, frustration and damn glowing feelings like a trusty fire extinguisher on his libido. He throws his hands up in the air, looking down at his pants with something close to horror.

“My dick is broken, thanks for nothing Buck.”

And so he stays nailed to his couch watching trash TV all day, giving up on the hookup idea altogether.

***

His phone buzzes.

He doesn't have to check the time to know Buck’s shift ended a few minutes ago (and refuses to feel sorry for himself that he has Buck’s schedule memorized).

Of course it’s Buck. Always him, not even aware he’s rattling the chain he has around Eddie’s heart.

**> >> so Abby’s back in town**

**> >> my ex i mean **

he elaborates needlessly.

Eddie fucking knows who she is, who she used to be. And despite him being a terrible texter, she still gets a Capital from Buck. Ghosted him for months and two years incommunicado and she still gets a _Capital_. 

**< << And how are you feeling about this?**

**> >> she asked to meet**

  
  


Oh this is bad. Her in town is bad. Buck knowing she’s back is bad. But her asking him is- Eddie takes a long, steadying breath. It does absolutely jackshit to his skyrocketing blood pressure and the rage that comes with it.

Chain rattled. Both his and Buck’s. 

  
  


**> >> im going to go see her now**

  
  


Eddie scoffs in the silence of his living room. _Just like that, uh?_

**< << Is that a good idea?**

he can’t help but ask, sending it before thinking better of it.

Buck had been there when Shannon came back, and had been nothing but supportive. But that's the thing, isn't it? Buck wasn’t hopelessly in love with Eddie then, and he’s sure not as hell not now; Buck doesn’t lie in his bed at night, searching for the warmth that’ll never be there, or dreading the day he’s not sitting at Eddie’s side anymore. 

_Eddie does_ . All that and more. He has been picturing it with increasing clarity since Monday: Buck at Christmas, a seat away too far, _always a seat away too far_ , long blond hair between them, attention and smile gravitating around someone else.

Somehow Eddie had got his hopes up, or was in such denial that it never occurred to him that Buck would, at some point, meet someone and keep them -who would want him for keeps? He’s … _he’s the world_ , and Eddie isn’t the first or the last one to think so, to be caught in his orbit. Even if it isn’t Abby, there’s a pretty, kind woman in Buck’s future, and Eddie has to accept that she, whoever she is, will end up sitting between them, will be the recipient of all Buck’s time and attention, of all the love he has to give.

Buck’s answer breaks him.

**> >> not sure. but i own her that much**

_Really? What for?_

**< << Didn’t she ghost you for months?**

**> >> she had just lost her mother!**

**> >> i loved her Eds**

The past tense pacifies Eddie a bit.

**> >> i let her go bc it was the healthy thing to do but perhaps theres a chance we can make it work again like you and shannon tried to**

Eddie swears. That’s what he gets for never telling Buck about Shannon asking for divorce before her accident.

**< << Or she can have her fun with you and leave you in the dust again**

**> >> what thats supposed to mean??**

**< << That perhaps you were so in love with her that you didn’t realize you were her mid life crisis**

Eddie has been to enough parties and dinners with Maddie to know what she thinks of the woman that left her baby brother heartbroken without so much as a glance back. No one batted an eye at the age difference beside a few people, but if Buck had been the one in his late forties going after a twenty-something Abby, everyone would have been waving red flags that it couldn’t end well or fair. And guess what? It didn’t.

**> >> what the fuck**

is all Buck answers.

Eddie throws his phone to the other end of the couch, tired of this and himself; of all this fucking jealousy over someone he doesn’t have, and never will.

He opens another beer.

***

There’s a sad kind of knocking on his door, and Eddie checks the time, bleary eyed and angry at himself for burning most of his day off away brooding and sleeping. The nap he took was a long one, and it’s already dark out.

Through the peephole he can see Buck’s face, his large, watery blue eyes and wobbly lips, the tension in him the only thing holding him up. Part of Eddie wants to pretend he’s sleeping, to stand his ground and stop giving in. It’s now or never to get over him.

He opens the door. When doesn’t he open the door for that man?

“ _Evan?_ ” His concern is like a physical thing, and the other man takes a step back. 

There’s a sniffle, and Buck looks away, letting Eddie time to zero in the puffy, blotchy skin under his eyes, the way his jaw is working hard against whatever he needs to say.

“Buck?” he tries again, opening the door wider and dragging him inside, noticing his perfectly tidy hair and, under his leather jacket, the good green button down shirt Maddie bought him for Christmas among other _date worthy clothes_ (that might have made Eddie sand his own teeth together).

When the door closes, Buck just slump against it.

“Buck look at me, are you drunk? What’s happening?”

Buck shakes his head. “I just- I really am stupid.”

“Hey hey hey man, _don’t say shit like that_.” Buck can be absent minded, and easily confused sometimes, but he’s clever as fuck and everything he doesn’t know he research the second he edges uncertainty or lack of knowledge. “Come in the living room okay? Let’s get you settled. I didn’t hear your car, did you-” he gently takes Buck’s head in his hands, angling it so he can see his eyes (somewhere up in the air, the Black Hawk is now burning, alarms half deafening Eddie, because even now Buck has the most beautiful eyes, and the sadness in them is killing him). “Evan did you walk all the way here?”

He blinks. “I didn’t want Maddie to have to take a call about- about me driving off the road because I couldn’t think straight.”

Eddie’s heart stops.

“Hey, look at me,” he orders, one hand leaving his cheek to grip one of his wrists. “ _What are you saying?_ ”

Buck looks at him, pain and sudden understanding on his face, “No. _No no no no, not like that_. I was just- in no state to drive, okay? Nothing like that Eds,” he promises, shaking his head but maintaining eye contact.

And that’s so typically Buck, to end up soothing Eddie when he’s the one in distress.

Eddie searches his face for a while, suspicious. He’ll take a world with Buck sitting too far away from him over one without him at all. Gladly.

“Okay,” he says slowly, accepting that Buck isn’t- one the verge of something that can’t be taken back. “I won’t take your word for it, though.”

Buck shakes his head, a fondness there that Eddie understands all too well. “I’m fine.”

“He says at 11pm, looking like roadkill.” Pretty roadkill. Roadkill that should have the world at their feet if they so much as ask. 

He more or less drags Buck to the living room, taking comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t be able to do that if he didn’t want to be moved and sat down. Eddie even gives him a pillow to hold on.

(No way the pillow is comforting enough, but Eddie doesn’t trust himself -he wants to be Buck’s pillow too damn much)

“What happened?”

What he wants to ask is “ _What did she do?_ ” but somehow, the pain in Buck’s eyes curbs the impulse.

Buck shrugs. “Her apartment was empty. She finally sold everything. And the apartment.”

“Wait, I thought-”

“That she was staying? Yeah. Me too I guess. But she’s just passing through,” he says, eyes shifting from Eddie to somewhere above his shoulder, leg bouncing nervously.

Eddie’s on the other couch across from him, but he swears he can feel it against his own. Now he wishes he had sat closer so he could at least put an arm around his shoulders, all the while disgusted by the relief that floods him. At least Abby’s not here to take Buck away from him.

“Did you guys talk?” he asks after a bit of silence, Buck ruminating his thoughts.

Buck nods, stiff like a wooden puppet on frayed strings. “It was weird. Like… like the halo that I always saw around her head was gone. And she’s still, you know. Abby. Great. Beautiful. But, I don’t see her like I used to-” he stops, frowning, clearly at loss how to explain his emotions.

Now that something Eddie can help with. His therapist is going to be so fucking proud.

“Nostalgia’s gone?” he proposes. Exposing himself has never been easy, but he can do it for Buck. “When I was on tour, I had that image of Shannon in my head. Perfect. Pristine. _A saint,_ really. And I went home, she was just a person. With faults, and shortcomings. Just like me. It took me a while to even accept that. So long that she left. Abby was your first love, it’s normal that you’ve been idolizing her.”

Buck takes that in, brow furrowed.

“She said she was sorry. That she knew she wasn’t coming back the second she decided to go and didn’t know how to say it.” There’s a rising edge in his voice, like an engine starting up before it can roar.

“That’s… good, I guess? That she knew she fucked up.” He wants to say something else. Something neither kind nor fair. But there’s no need.

Buck looks at him sharply at that, like his first instinct is to defend her… but he deflates. “ _I wasn’t her mid life crisis_ ,” he ends up saying, so hurt it’s breaking Eddie’s heart.

“I- I shouldn’t have phrased it like that. I just was mad and scared you would get hurt. Again. The way everyone talks about her, she seemed to care about you, but I never saw you happy with her, just lost after she left. It made an impression.”

A weird, sad kinship.

“She did care. But not like I did,” Buck admits, perhaps for the first time. “Not like she does for that guy.”

Eddie makes a face, mostly due to the fact he has to bite his inner cheeks, hard, to refrain a shout.

“Yeah she’s… uh. Engaged? Finnish dude she met in Morocco. She’s flying back to him as we speak. And I’m…” he stops, anger brimming to the surface now, and when he continues, he’s getting close to shouting, “I’m an idiot that can’t move on and _always fall in love with people I can’t have!_ I thought perhaps her being back was some kind of sign that-” he stops dead again, looking at Eddie with something that looks too much akin to fear for his comfort. 

Buck actually gets up from the couch and goes out of the room. Eddie shadows him immediately, ready to chase him down the street if it comes to it. But he only goes as far as the kitchen, searching for a glass and ice cold water.

Eddie’s heart jumps in his chest at the carelessness of the gesture, at Buck’s evident ease at navigating his kitchen, underlining his familiarity with Eddie’s home. Some weeks, he’s more often here than in his own apartment. At least Eddie did a good job at drilling through Evan Buckley’s thick head that _he belongs here_.

“Evan? A sign of what?” he prompts after a minute.

“It’s just… It’s nothing. I just…” he laughs, hurting Eddie with the joyless sound of it. “My parents weren’t that great okay? Lots of pretending, lots of Maddie being the only sure ground under my feet. She left to marry Doug, and I had to learn to be alone. Abby came into my life, showed me I can actually be a better version of myself, that it’s okay to want more than meaningless sex. She ends up leaving. Ally didn’t even try to stick around…,” he scoffs, hands clenched into fists. “And- and _the squad is my family_ and I thought it was enough for a while. And I’m always- I’m always _here_ ,” he breaths the last word so helplessly, like saying it too loud might bring the whole house down.

_Here._

_Fuck_ , the way he looks around in desperation, defensive, almost ready to get punched.

“You can barely have a life without me around bothering you all the time,” he mutters, apologetic, tears in his eyes like he’s the heaviest burden.

(Why did Eddie have to tell him he was exhausting? _why?_ )

Eddie doesn’t have time to evaluate why Buck being here has anything to do with him loving people he can’t have. “Who said you’re bothering me? _I’ve got your back Evan. Just like you’ve got mine,_ ” he says. Swears. “What I said that day was- misplaced anger and-”

“You say that now, but-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence Buck,” Eddie cuts, hands gripping his shoulders, eyes boring into his. “You’re always here because I want you here. Because I need you here. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”

Buck snorts. “Bobby’s grandma’s words of wisdom?”

“Yeah. He really likes to pepper it when he’s giving pep talk, doesn’t he?” He breathes out the need to punch whoever taught Buck he was such a dead weight.. It’s a recurring issue with him, this intrinsic worth he’s confident he doesn’t have if he’s not wearing his LAFD uniform. Inadequacy, hammered in his head again and again until he believed. But that’s a problem for tomorrow, and numerous days after that. “Now. Did you eat?”

“I grabbed a bite after my shift,” Buck says, chin wobbling a little. 

Eddie gives him a once over, assessing if he’s telling the truth. Buck’s only response is to shake his head petulantly and roll his eyes.

“Good. Go take a shower, then bed,” he orders in a way he hopes emulated Bobby’s Captain voice, but probably ends up sounding like a love sick puppy.

Buck looks up sharply at that. “What, no, I’m going ho-”

“No no no, you’re not going to walk back to your apartment at this hour, and I’m not driving you, so you’re stuck here. Your extra stuff is still in the guest bedroom since the last time, do not argue about it Evan, because it won’t end well for you,” he says, trying to make him laugh, but Buck just looks at him like he’s ready to cry again.

“ _Sto-op_ -” he hiccups, broken.

Eddie is floored. “What- what did I say?”

“Nothing it’s just- you don’t even have to try, you just…” he doesn’t finish and waves him off, “I’m just so glad you came to live here, man. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you or my favorite Diaz in my life,” he says, walking backward down the hall, winning smile firmly in place, but not quite reaching his eyes.

“Hey! I can’t resent you for thinking Chris is the better Diaz, but don’t push it Buck,” he says, snorting, only realizing that Buck effectively derailed his worries by mentioning his son when the bathroom door closes behind him.


	4. thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i have mixed feeling about this chapter, i rewrote a bunch of it yesterday, and again today, but it's as good as i can write it
> 
> [If you're interested here's a little playlist of the stuff i'm listening to when writing this fic!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06zInyqdejJn8JpklCwBMw)

5 am isn’t that rude of a wake up call when he can hear Buck singing along the radio in the kitchen. He didn’t think he could love him more, but hearing him badly singing along Linkin Park is… _it_. Natural. He can envision the next decades going just like that.

(Everyday he thinks he reached the limit, everyday Buck proves him wrong)

It’s perhaps a little too early in the morning for his heart to give out, and his blood to catch fire like jet fuel with all the want burning in him -it’s a miracle the bed doesn’t go up in flame, but if it does, he already has a firefighter in the house.

He gets out of bed, eyes half-closed and following his nose on automatic, the smell of cooking food, of _home,_ guiding him into the kitchen. There’s fresh coffee and bacon pancakes waiting for him, pilled in a stack impressive enough that even if Chris was with them, they would have trouble finishing it.

“How long have you been at this?” he asks when he stops ogling the way Buck’s arm muscles shift when he’s flipping pancakes.

His hands are burning with the need to settle on his hips, to ground him here with him forever, to feel the back of his hair against his own cheek and pepper the nap of his neck with kisses.

(Eddie remembers the battlefield his and Shannon’s kitchen was, the guilt and the shouts, the visceral needs to run away) 

Buck shrugs, “An hour? I kinda passed out after the shower and when I woke up, I… ‘m fine _okay?_ ,” he reassures, pointing at Eddie with the spatula. “This is not me being depressed and pretending. I had a good cry about it, but I’m- damn I’m over her. I’ve been over her for a long time. I just needed to see her to have definitive closure.”

And Eddie actually believes him, caught up in his smile, and the easy, natural presence of him in his kitchen. If only it could be like this all the time, but even with Abby gone for good, there’s that faceless woman waiting around the corner. She’ll take one look at Buck and love him like mad, and take him away.

Eddie busies himself by putting a huge portion of pancakes on his plate, demolishing it with both appetite and frustration. 

***

The first half of their shift is _busy_ , like LA woke up from a fever dream and got angsty, the heat wave making everything worse.

Food poisoning, heat strokes, two fires, a car crash that leaves five dead and an orphan that will never walk again, more heat strokes _and that’s all before noon,_ an endless dash between calls, that quickly have them crawling.

Through the morning everyone seems hyper aware of Buck, gauging his mood. He must have told them yesterday about his plans to go see Abby after his shift, and now they’re worried about him -and their damn damn bet too, Eddie’s sure. Chim at least knows that Eddie drove Buck to work this morning since they parked at the same time, which doesn’t exactly mean Buck and Abby didn’t make up, but is still damn suspicious.

Bobby hovers too much, buzzing with worry, ready to offer hugs and advice but waiting for Buck to ask. He does try to stuff Buck with comfort food between calls, handing him cereal bars they all know he loves. After the third one, Buck declines, looking weirded out by Bobby.

Hen and Chim tease him as always, but they’re wearing kids gloves with him, Eddie can tell. The way Chim has to physically brace himself to swallow back comebacks is hilarious, until Buck asks him if he’s constipated and launches into an _in detail_ explanation of the probable cause, health risks and ways to get rid of it over the roar of the engine. No one stops him, proof enough they’re worried about him.

And of course, Eddie’s watching too, because while it’s all good that Buck can smile, laugh , run around the station with his usual boundless puppy energy and disgust everyone with horror stories of intestinal occlusion, it’s still tying Eddie’s stomach into knots that Buck is getting over this so quickly. 

Hell, he’s almost acting like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

***

“I forgot to ask you yesterday,” Eddie tells him when they’re gathering their gear under the overwhelming sun after a call, bumping shoulders, “but Chris wanted to see you when I dropped him off last morning. I told him you were already coming for his birthday, but he gave me those puppy eyes…” he trails off, shaking his head as he can see that adorable face in his head. “No pressure if you can’t, he has to learn eventually that you can’t be there all the time,” he adds in a rush, talking about himself as much as his son.

 _It’s been only us before. It can be only us again_ , he repeats like a mantra.

But like always, Buck won’t let him believe that, not even for a second.

“I’ll go pick him up with you after this shift from Satan’s sweaty armpit is over,” he jokes, wiping his dirty face with some tissue before shoving it in his pocket, before throwing his turn out coat through the ladder truck door. “I still need a ride to Abby’s to get back my jeep back anyway.”

And the way he says that last part, not emotionless per say, but so damn carefree, it makes Eddie breaths a little easier. Perhaps he’s actually okay.

“Oh so I’m just your Uber now?” he asks, shoving him away from him without much force or will. When his hand connects with his bicep, all he wants is to grab at him and drag him closer.

“That and cuddles from Christopher, it’s all I need,” Buck fires back, grinning so bright Eddie looks away for a moment.

When Eddie looks at him again, he’s not grinning anymore, instead picking at a loose thread on his shirt sleeve cuff.

“What?”

“Nothing- it’s just…” Buck stops, furtively looking around at everyone else milling around them and the rig, each and everyone of them studiously pretending to not hang at his every word.

Eddie glares at Hen, but she only arches an eyebrow at him.

Buck crouches down, tugging Eddie with him by the shirt and they both pretend they’re deep in examination of a hose finish coupler.

When Buck starts again, he has lowered his voice so much Eddie has to get closer to hear him above the ambient mess of shouts, calls and machinery in the street. “What I said last night about bothering you all the time-”

“ _Pretty sure I told you it wasn’t the case_ ,” Eddie cuts him, sharp.

“Okay.” It’s unsure, and Eddie wishes he could tell Buck how much he wants him. All the time. “It’s just sometimes my loft feels so empty and- I’m getting too comfortable just going to your place when that’s the case.”

“God Evan, you’re more stubborn than me and that would be impressive if it wasn’t so-” he stops himself, eyes on the way Buck’s knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the hose. “I told you-”

“And I heard you okay?” Buck insists. Clearly they can’t let each other finish a sentence. “It’s just… If you actually wanna spend a quiet night alone with your kid before the crazy hits tomorrow, I understand. I’m not going to accuse you of lying when you said you want me over there.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to handle the wave of loneliness that radiates from Buck.

“You know it won’t always be like this, right? You’ll get that someday,” he tries to reassure, selfishness muted, but he’s burning at the idea, at his own fucking words. “Someone you love, that stays. Kids so loud you’ll finally understand Bobby’s sighs of despair when you’re bouncing around the station like a demented chicken. _Anyone would be lucky to have you, Evan_. And it’s only a matter of time before you meet someone that realizes it and you click with them.”

 _We clicked. I know how lucky I would be to have you. I love you. I’m staying._ That’s what Eddie means, what his _someone_ and _anyone_ mean. What he wants to shout. To beg.

Bobby would be proud of that pep talk, he thinks. But when he glances at Buck again, he’s just staring blankly at him, quiet. And not in a good way, not in a hopeful, “you think so?” way that’s accompanied by a rueful smile.

Slowly, his face become a face again, rather than a mask, and Buck wears his heart on his sleeve, always has, always will, something that Eddie loves about him so fucking much, but the emotion that colors his face... 

Buck manages a smile but it’s a bitter one, so fake it hurts, and he nods tightly at Eddie without looking him in the eyes, before he gets up from his crouch and walks away without a word, fire hose hitting the asphalt with a thud where he casts it off too hard.

***

By the time they have enough dead time to crash back at the station, they’re all exhausted by the heat, the death toll, and in Eddie’s case, the unnerving buzzing at the back of his head he hurts Buck.

He’s only distraction from that, if you could call it a distraction, are the images of broken bodies flashing in his head when he closes and he swears he can still hear that little girl crying, her piercing screams when they had to use the jaws to extract her, her desperation when they had to remove her siblings’ bodies first to reach her.

How hoarse she was when she told Hen she couldn’t feel her legs...

Thankfully the bell rings again, and he can’t think about it anymore, because a truck went off the road and through a grocery store at 55mph.

When they get there, nothing is on fire yet, but half the truck is still outside the shop, trailer gutted by the impact. 

“Okay guys, Buckley, check for an oil leak. Diaz, find out what it was transporting. Hen, Chim, driver,” Bobby quickly fires. “The rest with me rounding up anyone that’s hurt and sending them to the opposite side of the curb, the 107 is sending a few ambulances in reinforcement.”

Buck jogs to the front of the truck after patting Eddie’s shoulder despite his earlier behavior, going down to the floor with a flashlight.

Eddie looks at him, confused, for a second but shakes himself off. He hauls himself up on a turned down display aisle and into the gutted trailer, white powder puffing around his boots when they hit the floor. 

Bad. 

_So, so bad._

He checks the labels on the huge bags surrounding him, all of them mounted on wooden pallets. “Cap we need to evacuate right now. The entire trailer is full of flour,” he announces urgently through the radio.

“And we have a leak,” Buck adds before Bobby can give the evac order.

“We have a bomb, that’s what we have,” Bobby says, before shouting so loud Eddie can hear him without the radio, “Alright everyone, OUT NOW!”

They exit the store, carrying gurneys and guiding people that can walk as far away as possible.

When Eddie sees him by the truck, Buck is already in his turn out gear, arguing with Bobby with a lot of hand gestures. But before Eddie can make his way to them, or Bobby accepts whatever plan Buck is proposing, the wind picks up just enough to dust everything in flour, from the gutted tail end of the wrecked truck to them.

Bobby sights. “Fine. Diaz, help him with the hose, we’re going to soak the truck so the flour can’t combust and take the entire block with it. _The first sign of smoke_ , Buck I’m not kidding, the first sign of smoke, you run back here,” he says intently, hand digging into Buck’s shoulder.

Then he glances at Eddie and he knows that look. It’s his patented, _please drag him back kicking and screaming if you have to._

Eddie nods, and runs to their truck, putting his turn out gear as quickly as he can so he can join Buck in the street.

“First sign of smoke,” he reminds him.

“ _Yes mother_. It’s like you guys think I’m planning a trip to the burn unit,” Buck whines, before turning on the high pressure hose and he starts laughing too loud as he begins to spray the trailer. 

The wind is steadily covering them with flour, and the hose is mudding it all over the street, and them, making a disgusting whitegrey sludge.

It takes them while to soak most of the trailer and it’s highly flammable content.

“Okay guys that should be enough,” Bobby radios them. “I’m sending someone to secure the engine, pull back.”

Buck groans but doesn’t argue and turns off the hose, and Eddie takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders after holding the high pressure hose for so long.

***

When they get back to the station, they’re messy, face caked in flour and sweat after being cooked under the sun for so long in their turnout gear, which are also covered in dirty splatters. The firetrucks are worse though, with a side each coated with the dry flour, probably down in every crevice and compartment.

Bobby's deep sigh is telling enough after he stares at the rigs for too long and he gives his usual resupply orders with one hand on his hip, the other rubbing at his eyes, shaking his head like he wants to give up on this day all together and go to sleep.

“Buckley, Diaz, clean me this mess. Chinese take out on me today,” he announces at large. “Good job everyone.”

Buck and Eddie exchange _a look_ -Cap must be really tired if he can’t motivate himself to cook- before Buck tenses like he just remembered he’s more or less ignoring Eddie since their conversation earlier.

At loss, Eddie tugs off his turnout gear, piling it in a corner with his helmet, and he sheds his soaked dress shirt too, leaving him in his undershirt and dress pants. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Buck doing the same, before he takes out the cleaning supplies from a utility closet, handing off half of it to Eddie without a word.

Eddie doesn’t mind the mindless work, as water feels heavenly on his feverish skin and a welcomed respite from the constant heat they had no choice but to brave all morning.

That is, until it becomes too much, because when they’re done and the take out arrives, Buck just… empties a bucket of water above his head, already messy hair curling widely like Eddie likes best, tight dress shirt plastered on his skin and outlining every muscle, pants dangerously low on his hips, dragged down by the weight of the water, his moan of relief going right to Eddie’s dick.

Eddie actually curses him out loud, thankfully in the few Swedish ones he knows from his Mom shouting across the house growing up, attracting the attention of too many eyes, and raising too many eyebrows.

Buck looks at him in incomprehension, bucket still in hand and guileless, before he slightly turns his head to another firefighter for an explanation. Eddie just wants to fuck him against the truck just so he gets a clue. Instead he storms to the showers, set on ignoring his dick- no, _punishing his dick_.

With cold water.

***

Somehow after they have inhaled enough Chinese food to feed an army, they get some peace, and Eddie slumbers on one of the couches, tension breaking even if the heat doesn’t.

He dreams of gently stroking Buck’s cheek with his thumb, brushing the flour away. That’s followed by a kaleidoscope of not so gentle things he could do to Buck’s clothes, but Eddie’s not responsible for that, Buck is just… _Buck_.

Sometimes later, he doesn’t how long, he’s gently woken up by Chimney, bearing gifts of cookies and ice tea with a huge smile. Chim pushes it all in Eddie’s hands, plate and ice cold drink, before he sits in front of him on the coffee table, sipping his own glass.

Eddie downs half the ice tea, thankful. The AC might be working in the station, but he’s still thirsty and sweaty and sleepy. He sighs. And critically looks at the cookies, salivating. They’re thick and golden brown, with chunky pieces of chocolate just like he prefers.

“Cap made that? Or we’re taking chances with the gift baskets again?”

_Please say Cap, please say Cap._

Tripping on LSD isn’t something he wants seconds of.

Chim shakes his head, smiling around a cookie. “Nope, one hundred percent Maddie’s, she just popped by. It’s the only thing she says she can bake, but between you and me, she’s just selling herself short.”

Chim loves her so damn much it’s almost indecent to look at him when he’s beaming like that, something too precious to be shared with outsiders.

(Something he’s slowly accepting he’ll never have)

“They should open a bakery,” Eddie jokes, taking one cookie and biting into it with gusto. “Only cookies 'nd pancakes-” he moans, the rich taste of chocolate hitting him like a freight train, and a tang of salt makes his mouth water. “ _but damn fucking good ones_ , really.” 

Chim makes a “Hmm?” sounds as he chews.

“Buck made pancakes this morning. Apparently Bobby was appalled that Buck lives off his cooking and cold take outs. So he’s been teaching him more stuff and breakfast food.”

Chimney swallows, hard, with all the subtlety of a charging buffalo. “Buckaroo slept at your place? Uh, I thought he was seeing Abby last night.”

Eddie puts the glass down a little too hard beside Chim, Maddie’s cookie suddenly tasting like ash in his mouth. Maddie’s cookies. Maddie’s bet on Wednesday. _Celebratory cookies_.

“You guys and that fucking bet,” he mutters, disappointed. “Like you didn’t see us in my truck when we parked this morning, you know, as you were parking right in front of us, waving?”

“Uh-”

“So yes, he slept at my place. And about that fucking bet of yours,” Eddie carries on, tone a little too harsh, “she’s already gone back to-” he stops, unsure where Abby is actually going and just waves vaguely away. “So not only did Maddie lose, but _all of you did._ ”

_And me? Well. I won a respite, but eventually, I’ll lose the most._

Chim’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait wait wait, she’s not staying?”

“Nope.” And he doesn’t even try to hide his satisfaction, too tired and frayed for that.

“Well, Maddie is going to be happy at least,” Chim comments.

He actually sighs in relief, big smile spreading on his face, his reaction completely throwing Eddie off. 

“Wait what-”

“Oh, Edmundooo, you really did think we were betting on the odds of them getting back together, didn’t you?” Chim asks, sounding both offended and horrified, like Eddie just admitted to be a flat earther. “ _Aaaaaaah_. That’s why you were pissy at us! I thought you were just being you and pretending.”

“What that’s supposed to mean? I don’t understand, why-”

Chimney shushes him as one would a fussy toddler. “Don’t hurt your head. There are big bucks at stake on this one. And our bets are nullified if we interfere, I just needed to check if Maddie had won-” he stares at Eddie a little too long, assessing something that Eddie can’t guess, “but I'm pretty confident she didn’t. I told them Friday was _the day!_ ” he adds, cheery, before wildy looking around the loft area like them talking is _bad_. “Okay, enjoy the cookies!” he says conspiratorially, laughing as he goes, leaving Eddie alone and confused as hell. 

Why is Friday _the day?_ Beside it being Christopher’s birthday party?

***

“Oooooh cookies!! _Gimme gimme!_ ” Buck practically throws himself on top of him to get to the huge plate of cookies Chimney left behind him. “Was Maddie here?” he asks after he made himself comfortably snuggly against Eddie, cookie plate on his lap and two of them already eaten.

Eddie is beyond uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have punished his dick in the shower, because it’s coming back with a vengeance. Buck, for his part, has obviously moved on from whatever came over him earlier, back to his regular affectionate self like nothing happened. It’s beyond Eddie’s comprehension. He’s still unsure why on earth assuring Buck he would find love again had set him off like that.

(Fucking hell, perhaps his true feeling came through and he made Buck uncomfortable… which doesn’t exactly matches the way he’s practically on Eddie right now)

“It’s too hot to cuddle, Buckaroo,” he mutters, scooting away a little, but Buck -damn him- Buck follows him, side flushed to his.

Eddie grumbles and gives him a side glare, he has to swallow back a moan at the injustice of this situation because Buck has small cookie crumbs on his lips, on his chin, and Eddie wants to lick him clean. 

(He flashes back to his dick refusing to get interested in the hook up idea yesterday. _This is why_ )

He wants to say something, or gesture helpfully at the damn fucking crumbs, but if he so much as open his mouth, _he will die_.

Firefighters are trained to detect backdraft risks when they enter a house on fire. There are doors you simply cannot open. Eddie’s the fucking house on fire, and all that love and lust burning his veins will consume him, and might destroy the best relationship he ever had because he can’t leave well enough alone.

“How do you, uh, know those are Maddie’s?” he asks instead, suddenly very focused on the half eaten cookie still in his hand, wishing he could go deaf. Buck’s moaning around a fucking cookie is just so. Damn. Distracting.

(And if he wishes to be the cookie, that’s his problem)

“Maddie uses rock salt butter when she makes those. She perfected that recipe on me when I was a kid,” Buck explains, adoration for his sister evident.

Eddie melts, imagining Maddie sitting baby Buck on a counter, feeding him cookies and love because no one is doing it for them.

“Well I’m saving some for Chris,” Eddie announces, taking the plate away from Buck’s lap into his own, “those are amazing.”

“Oh I can make those for him if you want. She never taught me _taught me_ , but I’ve seen her struggle against that dough enough times to bake those in my sleep. Mine just come out a little… misshapen and burnt sometimes.”

Even boasting he’s cute, half bashful, nose strunchting up, bumping their already touching shoulders and it’s the most adorable Buck can be.

“Marry me.”

It’s out of his mouth before Eddie can think, before he can throw himself off the loft’s balustrade, head first. Because he just opened the door and is now engulfed in fire.

Buck chokes.

And at first Eddie’s too freaked out by his own stupidity to realize that it isn’t a matter of drinking something to make it go down easier, and that he has to do the Heimlich on _his choking best friend oh my God what has he done????_

His panic brings the whole house around, and when Buck finally spits the piece of cookie out from his mouth, red faced and panting, both Chim and Hen throw themselves at him, checking his breathing, his airways and his ribs, all the while he’s uselessly batting their hands and concern away. 

“Buckaroo do we have to ban cookies away from you now?!” Hen shouts, relief thick in her voice.

Eddie has fallen on his ass at the feet of the couch during the examination, struck dumb with guilt and fear. “It’s my fault-”

“No no, you did nothing!” Buck protests, hoarse, before he coughs. “I just- was caught off guard,” he laughs it off, but the embarrassment and _I was choking to death not two minutes ago_ isn’t a good look on him.

Eddie nearly scared his best friend to death with his stupid feelings he can’t keep in. No wonder Buck was caught off guard. Perhaps it’s all salvageable if he thinks Eddie was just kidding around but with the look of fear Buck is giving him…

They’re just staring at each other for a long moment, both clearly afraid.

“Thursday? Of all days, _Thursday_?” someone exclaims around them. “Did someone have Thursday Hen?”

“ _Not the time,_ Peterson!” Bobby booms, surprising everyone with the force of his voice, and the concern in it. “How is he?”

“Nothing but future bruises on his abdomen. He might want to sit the next call just to be sure,” Chimney says easily, patting Buck’s shoulder. “And perhaps no one mention to Maddie he choked on her cookies before she actually sees he’s okay herself, you know how she gets.”

Buck only protests a little about being benched for the next call, but not enough to be genuine and Eddie… Eddies did this. He’s the house on fire. His feelings building up, starved for air. And he had to open the damn door, engulfing Evan in flames along with him.

A call cuts any conversation short, and when they come back, their shift has been over for more than an hour and Eddie’s getting late to pick up Chris from school. Buck is long gone, a reassuring message waiting for them in the locker that Maddie came back to drive him home and that he’s fine.

Eddie isn’t.

***

“No Buck?” Chris doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment when Eddie shows up alone half an hour late at his school.

“Sorry mijo, he- he was very tired,” Eddie explains as he walks Chris to the car, feeling like shit.

His son nods -he’s old enough to know that firefighter’s an exhausting job, especially with how Eddie just face plants on the couch sometimes, but he’s still so clearly dejected. He gives a small “Okay,” but sulks all the way back home, until Eddie drinks enough coffee to trigger a heart attack and spend the rest of the day showering Christopher with love and attention.

(Still, _I did this I did this_ , hammers in Eddie’s head long after Chris recovers from his disappointment)

Eddie doesn’t want to push his luck and only sends one text to Buck around dinner time. 

**< << Take it easy okay? I’m sorry for any bruising on your ribs**

He doesn’t get an answer.

It’s fine. 

He goes through the motion, eats, puts Chris to bed and crashes in his own, heart beating along new found guilt.

Breaking.

_I did this I did this._


	5. friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's still friday somewhere. i had to upgrade some of this because of Eddie begins, took me a while

_I did this I did this._

The only reason Eddie gets out of bed on Friday morning is Christopher.

His dreams were filled with Buck, but the kind that left him exhausted. Resentment and disgust were featured heavily in those, and losing his best friend is more than ever on the forefront of Eddie’s mind. But he missed enough birthdays when he was deployed and he promised himself and Chris it would never happen again, and that he would always give his son one hundred percent of his attention.

So Eddie locks Buck and his bad dreams at the back of his head, and swallows down his heartbreak along with the lump in his throat.

He takes a shower and puts on clean clothes, before sneaking in his son’s bedroom to watch him sleep a little bit. Chris is still so small, but Eddie realizes with a start that one day soon, he won’t be able to carry him on his hip, or there will be no need to remind him to brush his teeth, and that one night, he won’t be asked for a bedtime story with pleading puppy eyes.

And Eddie didn’t get that a lot to begin with, him being away at war instead of being a dad for so long, so he’s going to enjoy this Chris as long as he can.

 _Ooh fucking hell_. He’s getting misty now just thinking about it, and he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hands, shaking his head trying to dislodge the melancholy from it.

“Hey mijo,” he pushes back Chris’ hair away from his forehead, “time to wake up. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

Chris actually grumbles and shakes his head, before opening one eye. “Birthday?” he mumbles, like he’s not getting out for anything less, and he’s a little too sleepy still to keep his countdown straight.

“Yup. Unless you don’t want the cake or the presents or the day off-”

Chris’ reaction is instantaneous and he shouts, “I’m awake, I’m awake!” He throws the cover away from him and puts his arms around Eddie’s neck, giggling. “I’m big now!”

“Too big for cuddles?”

Chris shakes his head, squealing a “nooooo!” as Eddie carries him in his arms, managing somehow to put his crutches under the other and makes his way to the kitchen for traditional birthday breakfast (that Eddie will attempt not to burn this year).

The eggs are too runny for both their taste, and the bacon a tad too crisp, but Chris doesn’t complain, too excited at the idea of spending the whole morning at the Natural History Museum with Eddie when the rest of his friends are stuck in school.

Later they will have the actual birthday party with the Diaz family that lives here and the squad and some of Chris’ friends. Eddie is already exhausted thinking about dealing with everyone and kids hyped on sugar, but at least his parents won’t be there to criticize everything.

Chris is about all things dinosaurs at the moment and he spends the better part of their visit on Eddie’s shoulders even if he's getting a little bit too heavy for that. Not that Chris would let himself be carried like that for any other kind of museum tour, but dinosaurs were fucking huge, and Chris isn’t exactly breaking height records just yet; so he actually asked to be on his dad’s shoulders to see the skeletons better.

“Bet if I was on Buck’s shoulders, I could’ave seen the argen-tino-sau-rus better,” Chris says, carefully saying the name, and now walking on his own side by side with Eddie when they hit the gift shop.

Eddie tries not to resent that. Chris is about all things Buck too, and to be fair, he does have a couple of inches on Eddie. But not that much.

“Oh I’m not good enough for you? And there I thought about taking this,” he glances at the box in his hands, over dramatic, “ _dig your own T-Rex_ kit as an extra birthday present, buuuuut-”

Chris doesn’t answer at first beside an excited squeal and hugs his leg like mad. “Nooo Dad I love youuu, please, please, please!”

(On the way home, Eddie realizes he’s probably been played by his own son)

***

Being in the captain squad comes with perks, as in negotiating a full day off on his son’s birthday not only for himself, but for most of the team as well, which proved a nightmare to organize for Bobby. 

He managed it anyway and Eddie’s just glad both his families are here today, even if he knows Chim and Bobby will have to leave relatively early to go work. At least Hen and Buck are free all day to help him wrangle the small army of sugar hyped children currently wreaking havoc in his house and yard, and Athena and Maddie’s day off don’t depend on Bobby’s organisation skills.

Bobby’s manning the barbecue, seconded by Chim and supervised by Abuela because she’ll sooner throw herself off a cliff than trust a white man with mexican seasoning ( _her words_ , said right in front of Bobby, who took it with a good natured smile and serious military salute); Hen volunteered herself and May to paint faces on the army of little monsters, Chris’ friends and cousins alike; while Athena’s stationed near a table, mixing reasonably spiked drinks for everyone that needs one.

(Eddie needs ten)

And in the kitchen, he and Maddie are slaving around Chris’ cake, putting the last touches to it. It’s a firefighter helmet -what else?- with Chrispother’s name and his age on the crest.

And Buck’s missing.

Or late, as Maddie said, reassuring Eddie with more than one gentle reminder that nothing would keep her brother away from his Diaz boys today. She says it each time with a familiarity and assurance that Eddie finds… worrying. After what happened yesterday, _what he said to Buck_ , he’s not so sure his best friend wants anything to do with him.

Yet he doesn’t miss the way she called him and Chris _Buck’s_ -how could he, he nearly brained himself on a cupboard when she said it the first time.

“He was fine last night,” Maddie insists for the twentieth time after Eddie glances first at the door and then down at his phone in quick succession, and the still unanswered message he left Buck last night. “I checked him over- not that he was happy about that, with his I _’m a big tough toddler made out of bricks_ act, but nothing but bruises. He’s coming.”

Eddie nods, tense still.

No way she knows what kind of curved ball Eddie threw at Buck’s face yesterday.

He sticks a flame lollipop into the cake with too much force, and he can feel Maddie’s staring at him. When he looks up, her eyebrows are so high they might fly off.

“Okay spill,” she orders, putting her own decorations back on the counter. “What’s bugging you? Did you and Evan have a fight or something?”

 _No,_ he wants to say, _I just ruined our friendship. I made him choke on a damn cookie and now he hates me and will leave me and Chris and-_

Buck smashes right through that, bursting through the front door carrying two giant grocery bags, actually winded.

“ _Eddie!_ I’m so- so sorry I’m late I had- to fucking wrestle some asshole at the post- office to get Chris’ present in time- because there was some-” he pants, before coming to a full stops, guilt ridden face breaking into a breathtaking grin when he sees the cake. “Awe, that cake is the cutest thing!”

He puts the bags on the couch and both of them, Eddie realizes, are filled with presents. “ _Evan, what did I say about spoiling my son?_ ”

Buck flusters in the prettiest way as he takes off his jacket, revealing another of Maddie’s date worthy buttons down -baby blue to go with his eyes, of course, why doesn’t he kill Eddie right then and there? _Fuck_ , how good he looks all flushed and- and Eddie can’t with this man and has to look away or he’ll do… something like he did yesterday.

As in, a goddamn disaster.

“Uh… the way I remember it, you said _you_ didn’t want to spoil him. Never said a goddamn thing about me,” he says cheekily, sauntering to his sister to pop a kiss on her cheek -Eddie isn’t jealous of Maddie, that’s preposterous, that’s insane, that's… okay, he’s yearning- and… Buck steals one of the novelty flame lollipops Athena brought as party favors and cake decoration, unwraps it quickly and pops it in his mouth like- like something Eddie doesn’t have the time or energy to worry about. “Plus I only put a tag on the big one, the rest I bought in case it didn’t arrive on time. Just put the extras with the rest and tell him they’re from your extended family.”

Between them, Maddie’s smile falls. “I-I used to do that with your presents,” she mumbles. “Did you-”

“Know Mom and Dad just gave you a credit card and let you do all the work? Uh, yeah genius. I’m not the sharpest tool in the box, but I could recognize your handwriting on all the tags since I was five,” he says easily, kissing Maddie again. “ _Best sister ever_.”

“You parents did _what?_ ” Eddie remarks, too loud and too… angry.

The youngest Buckley just shrugs, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and opening it quick, at ease and _at home,_ so far removed from the hurt he can afford to not care about it anymore, Eddie realizes.

“My favorite Diaz is in the yard? Call if you need help!” Buck leaves without so much a glance back, neither acknowledging he ignored Eddie’s text or giving some kind of explanation.

Eddie turns toward Maddie and engulfs her in a careful hug. “ _Thank you_ ,” he says in her hair.

“Hmm, what for?” Confusion about the obvious must be a Buckleys’ trait.

“For raising that man. You were a kid yourself and you still made him good. I guess I never realized how much you were forced to shoulder-”

He knew there was something wrong with the Buckleys’ parents when they didn’t show up when Maddie was in the hospital after Doug. He was sure of it when they didn’t show up after Buck was crushed by the ladder truck on national TV. And again, when he got his pulmonary embolism. _They never showed up_. And Eddie never really asked, because Buck is good at talking around himself, at diverting the attention when he wants too.

To his shame, Eddie remembers Lena accusing him of being a shitty friend. Eddie never asking is a mix of having a lot on his plate already, forgetting about it, and always assuming that Buck would speak about it on his own time.

_Shit. Lena was right. I need to do better._

Chim loudly clears his throat behind them. “Diaz if you take my Buckley, I’ll take yours,” he jokes, without being able to contain mild icky disgust at the idea.

Eddie, who’s feeling a little floaty, just says, “Maddie’s the best.”

“I know right?” Chim beams at them. “But your Buckley might feel hurt if you admit it out loud, so I’ll take your secret to the grave. _At a cost_.”

Maddie frees herself from Eddie’s arms, a slightly concerned look on her face, before patting his chest. “I’ll give you an extra piece of cake if you stop torturing Eddie,” she negotiates on his behalf and after that they’re so grossly in love and syrupy that Eddie doesn’t know if he wants to puke or cry with jealousy.

_My Buckley. As if._

He leaves them at it, and actually does what Buck told him to do. Extracting the many, _many_ gifts from the bags is a balancing act of annoyance and warmth. Chris deserves the world, but getting used to a mountain of presents is just not the way Eddie has been raised, especially coming from just one person. He puts them aside in the already huge pile that he’s charged to somehow bring into the yard after the cake is served, before thinking better of it. Might as well be smart about it. So he takes out a few at random and goes hide them in his closet for next Christmas or a really good grade, or just a day Chris could use cheering up from his Bucky.

He idly wonders if Buck ended up getting the llama piñata thing he was talking about earlier in the week, or if he’s free of that monstrosity inside his house for a while (that thing looks completely demented. And it’s freaking purple! it doesn’t make any sense to Eddie).

Closing his door, he resolves into finding a way for Buck to listen to him about not spoiling Christopher rotten.

When he gets back to the kitchen, Maddie and Chim are feeding each other half a frosted cupcake -he kinda wishes he could tease Chim about it, but Maddie’s right there, and Maddie is _definitively not his bro_ , so he can’t make sex joke at her expense. He shelves his jokes for later when he can tackle Chim with Hen, and occupies his hands by shaking Buck’s big present a little, trying to guess what he bought when Chim, well, chims,

“I wouldn’t do that. Sounded expensive the way he was rambling about it a few weeks ago. I overheard him on the phone when he was negotiating one of his collectibles away to get that instead,” he points at the present in Eddie’s hand.

 _Oh shit no._ He knows how much money Buck pours into his damn consoles and action figures. _And he traded one away for this?_ “What is it?”

“Dunno. He wouldn’t say. It’s like the tattoo, I wasn’t authorized to look. He said it wasn’t for me. Did he show you?” Chim asks Maddie, brushing at the frosting on her cheek with his thumb as naturally as you pleased.

Eddie forcibly blinks against flashes of cookie crumbs on Buck’s chin, _Marry me_ rushing out of him, hand burning with his need to reach out to him. The tattoo. The damn tattoo that made Eddie see red. With everything that happened, he completely forgot to try and sneak a peek, or pester Buck into showing it to him.

She shakes her head.

“I never seen him so secretive. I was kinda worried for a moment with Abby coming back that it was some kind of,” she frowns, opinion clear, “weird gesture toward her, but when I checked his bruises last night, I was effusively assured it wasn’t the case.”

Chim raises his eyebrows at the same time Eddie asks, “ _Effusively?_ ”

She hums, before grumbling, in a pretty good impression of her brother, “Maddie I’m insulted the thought even crossed your mind!” In her voice, she adds, “you should have seen him and his pouty face.”

“Perhaps it’s ugly and he’s hiding it in shame,” Chim laughs, before Maddie throws a hand towel at his face.

“No making fun of my brother where I can hear ya, you know the rules.”

“ _Yes ma'am_ ,” Chim salutes, before blowing a kiss her way. “C’mon Eddie, I was supposed to get you out there. Your son wants a picture with you and Buck, and I hate to make the little man wait.”

Maddie waves them off when Eddie protests- not that he’s eager to calculate proper candle positions to make the cake extra pretty, but Buck is hard enough to look at… but with Christopher in his arms, it’s damn near impossible.

He’s pretty sure he hears Chimney whispers “Fridayyy, baby,” but he’s too overwhelmed to think much about it. _Oh fuck_ , the way Buck is casually carrying Chris on his hip on the other side of the garden, taking a video or a selfie on his phone… It’s too much.

Eddie takes a fortifying breath. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

***

It’s all insane to be surrounded by so many people that love him and his son. Kids from his school, his abuela and tía, Chris’ cousins, a lot of coworkers and their own children, and, of course, Buck.

He doesn't leave their side for more than a minute and keeps on volunteering himself to record the big moments with Hen’s good camera.

“Hey, if you give me your phone, I could facetime your parents so they can see Christopher blow the candles live from El Paso,” Buck proposes softly after handing Eddie a beer.

The kids are involved in a pretty feral party of hide and seek that has the entire house filled with badly hidden and giggling kids, but the garden is left quiet for the adults.

Eddie shakes his head, mood souring. “I’ll send them a video later. They’re the one that didn’t want to come.”

Buck’s silent for a minute.

“Why though?”

Eddie can feel his face doing the twisty mouth thing that everyone knows is his _I’m emotional please hold me but from a distance_ tell. He schools it away the best he can, Buck isn’t that great at distance after all, and while Eddie would give a lot to have Buck in his arms, he can’t.

“Because they want me back in El Paso so they can police my parenting. They- they tried to take Chris after Shannon left. Away from me. And they didn’t appreciate that I told them to fuck off by moving here. Or when I told them I was staying after she died.”

The look that Buck gives him is raw. “Eddie-”

“It’s okay. It’s fine now. It’s just since the accident in the well, I’ve been more resentful of them, and- honestly, I’m glad they’re not here. The cake alone would have sent them into some kind rage.”

Buck eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What’s wrong with the cake?”

“Icing. Fondant. Lollipops are a choking hazard. Letting Chris outta my sight and trusting him with a glass without a straw. And that’s just top of my mind.”

“Jesus. _Okay_. So, no facetiming right for them. They’re cancelled. I’m cancelling them. That cake is cute and Christopher would hate being babied like that anyway,” Buck shakes his head, pissed off on the kid’s behalf.

Eddie wants to kiss him -when doesn’t he? Eddie wants to kiss him because Buck knows what to say and perfectly knows and respects Chris’ rightful need for his independence.

When the kids are done hunting down each other in the house, they flood back in the garden, May trying to keep them in line, like the collected eighteen year old she is, but there’s something about preschoolers that drives older kids bat shit insane and she’s as hyped on sugar as the rest of them and Eddie’s oldest nieces, and she ends up bouncing around and getting in a tickle fight with her brother, Athena not so discreetly recording it on her phone for posterity.

Christopher comes to them and throws himself at Buck, who takes him on his lap without a second thought, snuggling close. Buck looks down at him with pure adoration on his face, and righten his glasses and smooths back his suspenders because he got a little ruffled playing.

And this. This is what Eddie fears the most, the way seeing Buck effortlessly parent his son warms him to the core, because he and Chris could lose it. After the tsunami -not so long ago, all told- Buck was scared at the very idea of being alone with Chris. Time healed that, but Buck won’t have time for them when he’s dating again or have kids of his own.

“Ready for the cake mijo?” he asks, needing to put some distance between himself and his thoughts.

Screams of joy drowns Chris’ own shout and Eddie gets up, climbing on the lawn chair. “I don’t think I heard you guys?”

“ _CAKE! CAKE! CAKE!_ ”

***

They all sing a weird mashup of Happy Birthday and Feliz Compleaños, shouting the words and Eddie doesn’t care about the neighbors and sings as loud as he can, snuggling close to his son as the cake is put in front of him.

A hush falls on the crowd, and Athena says, “now time for the wish.”

Chris nods, immediately attacking the candles and Eddie has to help him blow them down because Maddie got a little overzealous and put way too much on the cake.

“Someone came prepared,” Buck says softly and just for Eddie’s ears, chuckling at the way Chris didn’t hesitate or thought about his wish. It is so intimate it takes Eddie’s breath away, like two parents talking about their kids. 

And he’s left yearning for it to be true. For a second or two, it is, both of them looking at each other so deeply Eddie can’t think beside Buck’s eyes. But that problem with seconds, they tick by and are gone, and just like that, Buck looks away.

***

They stuff their face with cake and then it’s time for the gifts.

It’s a long process, made more complicated because Eddie has to get creative with the extra presents from Buck, inventing a few cousins and no less than two aunts, leaving his actual tía and Abuela completely flabbergasted on the other side of the table.

No matter, Chris is too happy and hyped on sugar to question his new family members, or the way Buck snorts when Eddie stumbles on a name. It would be too many gifts even without those, and at some point he has to extract his son from the mountain of wrapping papers and boxes, sitting him on his lap for a second half of the presents, someone taking the first round away so they have some room to breath.

The one he clearly likes best is the decorated envelope Athena gave them, hers and Boddy’s handwriting on it. It contains an accepted application for Harry’s summer camp -a pretty selective one that she assured Eddie is ready to take care of Chris’ CP. Denny got invited last year, so it’s a pretty big deal for the three boys and for Christopher to be included.

Eddie doesn’t know how he’s supposed to live without Chris for three whole weeks, but he already checked out the place through Carla and they said he could stay with him the first day (it was clear it was for his benefit and not Chris, which Carla had cackled about all the way back).

Eddie doesn’t know if it’s by design or by chance, but when Chimney hands the last present to him and Chris, of course it's Buck’s.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Maddie gently taking the phone from her brother’s hands so he can get closer and ready to receive a delighted 8 years old in his arms.

Maddie winks at him, like she and Eddie are in on some inside joke. He pretends he didn’t see that, focusing on Chris again.

The wrapping comes off quickly, and Eddie doesn't know what he’s seeing at first, except cartoon- are those supposed to be raccoons? and pastel colors. Then he sees the brand and the big _Special Edition_ stamped on the box.

“ _BUUUUCK!!_ ” 

Eddie barely has time to catch the Nintendo Switch from his kid that he throws himself at Buck, everyone awe-ing and cheering.

Eddie’s pretty sure he gave a price limit to everyone and he knows how much one of those costs, let alone one that comes with a game, special colors and has been sold out for months. Eddie knows it is because he looked into getting one but when he did, the price had already tripled.

“ _Really Buck?_ ”

But Buck can’t hear him, too busy cuddling their son, both of them half disappearing for a few seconds in the mass of wrappings, before Buck gets them up again, that huge grin of his-

Eddie’s imaginary Black Hawk makes a looping, then another, crash looking more eminent than it did ten minutes ago. Did he just think… _their son?!_

He’s doomed. _Doomed, doomed, doomed, and gone and_ \- how is he supposed to find someone half as good as Evan Buckley, let alone someone that could outshine him enough for Eddie to fall out of love and ready to move on?

Out of nowhere, a big hand squeezes his shoulder and Eddie knows it’s Bobby even before he looks back at his Captain; that fatherly intuition of his striking true again and Eddie accepts the support wholeheartedly, bittersweet tears burning his eyes.

Buck is rambling about teaching Chris communism by sheer raccoon hate and visiting people’s island -nothing that Eddie understands. He still nods when Chris asks him if he can charge and set up the console so it’s ready to go in a few hours.

“Everything for you mijo,” he says, kissing the top of his head, hiding his tears in Christopher’s hair. “Everything.”

And as he says it, he realizes he can’t afford another disaster like yesterday. No more bullshit, no more losing the iron grip he keeps on his feelings. He can’t jeopardize Buck and Chris’ relationship, not when they mean so much to each other, not when his son needs stability and people not running away from them. And if that includes never admitting to Buck he’s in love with him so his kid can keep him, Eddie will deal. 

Somehow.

***

The house is left a mess of toys and pillows and used paper plates.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer to help clean,” Hen says, Denny half sleeping in her arms.

“Don’t worry,” he assures softly, patting her son’s head. “Same mess at your house on his birthday is enough to console me.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Hen waves at him and he closes the door behind her, breathing deeply as he’s forced to face the mess he has to clean.

“Hey Buck?” he throws across the living room after stretching his shoulders, “I hope you were serious about helping me deal with all this.” 

There’s no answer and Eddie goes further in his house, frowning, without finding a sleeping Buckley sprawled on a couch or something.

After a few minutes of searching, he finds them in the garden, Buck holding Christopher in his arms, Chris bundled in one of Eddie’s heavier coats against an inexistant chill.

“You sure about it?” Chris is asking very seriously.

“Mmhmm.” Buck points at the stars -or at least the very few bright enough to be seen in the LA night sky. “You’ll see. Harry and Denny already saw it, but you’re going to be blown away when you’re at camp. There’s so many out there, you can’t count them all. Hell, your dad must have seen it himself when he was in the army. Can’t imagine there’s a lot of light pollution in the Afghan desert.”

There isn’t. It was as breathtaking as it was awful, because he was small and tainted and terrified, and he was going to die under these stars. He didn’t, and that still shocks him, but sometimes it feels like _he did_ , at least parts of him left to rot in Death Valley.

“My teacher- she says you don’t see the same ones if you’re in the south hemisphere.”

“That’s right. I spent a summer learning them when I was working in South America. I wish I had pictures, but I’ll show you kids how to set your phone cameras so you can take a picture of the Milky Way. You can’t miss it, it will be like a milk spilt aaaaaall across the sky,” Buck jokes, swaying them around, before coming to a full stop when he sees Eddie just standing there.

He doesn’t even want to know what Buck sees, because Eddie has to wipe actual tears from his cheek from listening to the two loves of his life.

(Wasn’t he supposed to be dealing with this? To be fine?)

“Hey, you okay?” Buck asks, raw concern adding to Eddie’s emotions. In his arms, Chris is looking confused, but in the semi dark he obviously didn’t see the tears.

“Yeah yeah,” he dismisses. “Hey mijo, I kinda feel like you’re cheating on your appointed bedtime you know.”

“ _But Daaaad, it’s my birthday!_ ” Chris is so indignant -something he picked up from Buck for sure. 

“And so we negotiated 11 pm and it’s well past that bud.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize he was supposed to be in bed,” Buck immediately apologizes, contrite.

Eddie snorts. “Hey, that’s not your fault he’s a rascal. But now you need to go to bed, Buck has been carrying you around all afternoon and most of the night.”

“ _But he’s my Buck_.”

What is he supposed to answer to that? No doubt Christopher is his son with a possessive streak like that. Diaz men don’t like sharing, be it toys, food or _Buck_. Eddie would be a hypocrite to contradict his son on that one.

Buck grins like a loon at that. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“Don’t encourage him, please.”

Buck laughs for a moment, swaying Chris playfully from one side to the other, before he passes him to Eddie like they’ve been doing this for years, but rolling his shoulders and stretching his back with evident relief the second Chris can’t see him.

Eddie shakes his head, mouthing _I told you so_ above his kid’s head, and Buck immediately answers in kind, _but I’m helpless against him!_

Now it’s time to make a game plan for bedtime and clean up, so Eddie puts Chris on one of the cleaner couches for a minute so he can think.

“There was actually something else. That I got uh- for Christopher.”

Eddie can hear Buck wincing through the sentence and turns on him, lighting fast, “No.” _There_ , he’s putting his foot down. “no more.”

Buck makes a face. “Yeah, about that. It can’t exactly be taken back to the store, but it's not something he will actually have soooo-” and then he gives him the patented Buckley puppy eyes.

Eddie throws his hands in the air, exasperated, in a fond, _I want to marry you so hard_ way.

Buck gingerly sits on the couch near Chris and unbuttons his shirt sleeve, pushing it up, up, up and Eddie’s breath is caught in his throat, because no matter what Buck has done, _it’s inked into his skin_.

“Doryyy!” Chris exclaims. “Dad, look it’s Dory!”

And it is. Right there in full color on Buck’s smooth skin, still looking a bit red and raw. He doesn’t miss the little _just keep swimming_ written in one of the air bubbles around the fish.

“You remembered!”

Eddie looks between his son and his… _his Buck_ for a few seconds, at loss with the raw emotions and why Buck is tearing up in Chris’ hair. 

“Best advice I ever got, kiddo,” Buck praises. “Now I think we really need to get a move on, ‘cause your dad is getting very crossed about bedtime. You good getting ready to bed while we clean?”

“I’m nine now. _I’m not a baby_ ,” Chris laughs as he walks away, the sound of his crutches fading down the hall.

Eddie looks at his baby go. _Nine now_. Damn it. It passes too fast.

Buck gets up, a lot closer than either expected, near jumping out of each other's space, awkward. 

Buck scratches the back of his head. “Listen, if it’s too much I- I know I should have run it by you first but-”

“Is this a tsunami thing?” Eddie cuts without heat. He remembers how he felt for a minute, Buck’s words refusing to sink in, heart hammering against his chest, tears stinging his eyes.

Buck nods, looking away for a second. “He’s… he’s the best,” he croaks, like it explains everything.

And between them, _it does._

“Yeah. I know _._ ”

Everyday Eddie feels like he can’t take this anymore, everyday he has to. The fire still burns, but as long as he self contains, as long as he doesn’t ask too much, say too much, risk of propagation should be minimum. Fire is hungry, though, and devouring by nature. Fire _spreads_ , and takes all. Buck has been weird all week, pushing and pulling and hiding things, avoiding Eddie and walking away from him… he must know something is up, must smell the smoke.

Eddie needs to be strong for Chris, or they’ll both lose him.

***

Buck sleeps in the guest room again. There’s no need to sway him, and no trace of the reluctance from Wednesday night, not even a peep from him about bothering him and Christopher.

Eddie’s burning, and while he brushes his teeth, he glares at Buck’s freaking firetruck red toothbrush and the matching cup that has been in Eddie’s bathroom since… forever it feels.

_Stay stay stay stay stay._

That’s what claws its way up his throat every time Buck looks at him, what he has to fight against at every given moment.

Buck has a bag full of clothes in his guest room. Buck has a toothbrush in his bathroom, next to his and Christopher’s. And Eddie can’t ask for more. 

He won’t.


	6. saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think there's a country where it's still saturday but- here it is!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING!! SUICIDE (not about the main characters) and HOMOPHOBIA.

_And Eddie can’t ask for more. He won’t._

Eddie wakes up with an armful of Christopher, patting him on the head until Eddie pretends to bite his hand.

“Daaaad, Bucky made cookies! Come now!!” Chris giggles, excited but still sleepy and so cuddly Eddie just stays there in bed with him for a long moment, taking in as much love and comfort as he gives, letting it seep in and recenter him.

When they get in the kitchen, Buck’s sitting on the counter with a rumpled shirt on and his long legs on full display because he’s wearing one of Eddie’s old baseball shorts that have been frayed after years of use and cut up to mid tight.

Eddie freezes, blood rushing places it shouldn’t go and he bites his bottom lips hard to keep in the scream of desperate lust that’s pushing out.

Somehow this is his life, lusting after his best friend second thing in the morning.

Buck looks up from what he’s been doing. “Hey Chris, you manage to get him out of bed? Nice work.”

Chris snorts, “Yup, but it wasn’t easy.”

“Well, I have some cookies ready for your trouble,” Buck beams, gesturing at a plate next to him.

Eddie heroically tears his eyes away from Buck’s hairy legs so he can look at the cookies, and they’re a little misshapen and a little burnt, just like he promised him on Thursday. Buck’s actually using a butter knife to scratch out some of the burnt parts, letting the charged crumbs fall on a second plate on his lap.

Is it some kind of message? That Buck isn’t holding a- well, not a grudge, but not taking Eddie’s declaration seriously? That he took it as a joke? That they’re okay?

That’s good right? But if it’s good, if it’s what they need, why does _Marry me_ echoes in Eddie's head louder and louder, and clawing up in his throat, _Stay stay stay stay_ is harder than ever to swallow back?

***

They go to work in their respective cars, but the second they park, Buck’s back at his side, too close and too far. He immediately launches back in his retelling of the epic search for the Animal Crossing Special Edition Switch, and how he had to trade not with one, _but three different people across the state_ , just to get an action figure that the collectionner who owned the unopened Switch was interested in.

Eddie’s not above rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness. “Really you could just have got him a regular one. Not that you’re off the hook for buying him a Switch in the first place, but you didn’t have to-”

“Uh, I beg your pardon _Eddito_ , but I had too.” 

“I thought you wanted to teach him communism?” Eddie objects when Buck huffs. “How about that?”

Buck makes a confused puppy face that Eddie wants to kiss it better. “Okay that’s fair. But you can still be anti-Tom Nook and have nice things too.”

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s what them rich democrats say right before taking a swim in their pool of money.” Eddie remembers working three jobs before he finished the Firefighter Academy. Money had been tight, even with his parents helping, so the resentment in his voice is pretty legitimate, even if it’s prompted by a capitalist racoon.

That actually shuts up Buck long enough that Eddie gives him a worried sidelong glance. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, looking away with something akin to shame on his face, slumped shoulders and all. “You’re, uh, you’re right. Sorry, I just got excited when I thought about it, and I didn’t think and-”

Eddie stops, hand shooting up to grab Buck’s arm so he turns and _looks_ at him.

(Skin on skin is sinful, positively victorian, and Eddie has to concentrate real hard to not jump away or put his other hand on Buck)

“I’m not really mad, okay? I’m just worried about your bank account, man,” he explains, before he adds with more levity, “at this point, I won’t get anything for _my birthday_.” He doesn’t joke because he finds it funny, but because he doesn’t want to embarrass Buck with all that money talk.

Buck scoffs, unconcerned. “You’re cheap, I could just bring you a six pack to share and you would be happy.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but he doesn’t have anything to retort to that. It’s the truth after all. A quiet evening with Buck _would be enough for him_ ; just the two of them and Eddie wants that and- _Shit_.

“I already have a six pack,” he shoots petulantly to cover how much he loves and craves the idea, patting his abs though the henley he’s wearing. He points at Buck’s, “I don’t need yours.”

(What's the saying about bold faced lies?)

And Buck blushes. _Fuck_ , he blushes, face and neck bright red; eyes and mouth going round, and he’s so, so fucking breathtakingly beautiful like that it really is unfair.

“I-I… _that’s not what_ \- I. _O-oo_ kay. Noted. No- uh, no six pack for you. I’ll have- to. Find something else, yeah?” he stammers, looking anywhere but at Eddie.

( _Abort abort abort abort_ )

Suddenly Boddy is there, already in uniform and clapping them on the shoulders enthusiastically. “Hey boys! Great day yesterday, Chris was so happy.”

Eddie nods, slowly, but his attention is still on Buck and the barely receding blush on his cheeks, the way his blue eyes are still wide, like he got punched and he’s still reeling from it.

“Yeah, sorry you and Chim still had to leave that early thought.”

“We left you in good company,” Bobby assures, grinning from ear to ear as he squeezes Buck’s shoulder, looking from him to Eddie expectantly.

Chim appears on the other side of them, loudly clapping his hand together, glee radiating out of him.

“Sooooo, Friday. Fine day. Great day. Opened any present of your own Eddie?” Chim asks pointedly, leaving Eddie confused.

He looks at Buck -who looks as lost as he feels- and at Bobby -who’s winking at Chim before pretending he wasn’t doing that when Eddie catches him.

“It was Chris’ birthday,” he says slowly, almost making it a question and racking his failing brain for understanding. “Why would I have pres-”

“I NEED TO GO CHANGE!” Buck blurts, near shouting volume, power walking to the locker room without a glance back, Eddie’s worried eyes on him.

Eddie’s hand hangs in the air, bereft- shit he had been gripping Buck’s bicep the whole time.

There’s a bit of silence, then Chim slaps him on the shoulder. _Hard_. “What did you do?!” he complains, accusatory finger inches from his face. 

“ _What?_ I didn’t-” Eddi stammers, immediately cut off.

“I cannot believe you blew this for me, amn,” Chim says, shaking his head, “I cannot- ARGH!”

He leaves throwing his hands up in the hair, running back upstairs.

Eddie turns to Bobby. “Cap what-”

“Don’t,” Bobby cuts, muttering, “this is hopeless.”

And he follows Chim, shaking his head as he goes.

Eddie’s left in the middle of the firehouse, clueless, colleagues forced to avoid him on their way in or out, glancing at him curiously. 

“ _What the fuck as gotten into you guys_ ,” he asks into thin air, before forcing himself to the locker room.

Buck is already changed and on his way out -that has to be a record. Eddie opens his mouth, but Buck just gives him a tight smile and quickly heads upstairs.

His bag hits the floor with a _oof_. Friday was Chim and Bobby’s day for the bet.

Suddenly he knows what the bet is about. What had Chim said on Thursday? That he thought Eddie knew about the bet and was _just being him and pretending he didn’t_?

It’s not about Buck. It’s about him. About him throwing his feelings at Buck’s face any day now and burning their friendship to the ground. And Buck, he knows. That’s why he’s been acting so weird. Why he’s avoiding Eddie and not telling him stuff.

Or perhaps he’s paranoid. Perhaps he needs a vacation. And friends that weren’t Buck’s friends first, that he can talk too without spilling the beans. 

Eddie’s so confused and lost. It’s messing with his head.

Unless the bet is… no. He’s not going there.

 _No asking for miracles,_ he reminds himself. _Fuck._

***

A woman is hitting on Eddie.

Scratch that, _a gorgeous woman_ is hitting on Eddie. They’re on a call after a pretty intense fire, and he can’t make himself care about her in any way, heart and head too full already.

His brain is shortcutting a little at how much he’s been ruined by Buck and his feelings for him, because right now, all he wants is the inconvenience of being flirted with to be over. He’s tired. He’s hungry. He’s in love. In short, he wants her to go away, but she’s trying to get his attention with all the tricks in the book. Cleavage popping next to his head when he’s crouching to gather his gear hair flip, finger touching her mouth, forearm pushing up her boobs, all that and more, on top of following him around the truck when he begins to roll up a hoose.

He just wants to get back at the station, take a shower and sleep for the next ten years, but she ain’t quitting.

(The only worse scenario would be if that woman was all over Buck. Eddie knows he has no right, but he would have been glued to Buck’s side anyway, cockblocking him like the possessive asshole he is)

“Your arms are really fucking huge,” she admires, and Eddie has to take a step back so her hand misses him.

So that’s what women endure all day long? _Fucking hell._ It’s a wonder they don’t murder all men on sight.

Whatever-her-name-is looks mostly amused at him avoiding her touch, like him maintaining distance is cute.

“Shame my hotel burned down…,” she sighs, and yep, she’s definitely checking his crotch. Eddie has never been happier to wear his baggy turn out pants. “Do you know a place where I could crash for the evening?”

Eddie actually stares at her for a solid minute. _Is she serious?_

“Uh-”

And she’s advancing on him again, staring at him through her eyelashes, playing coy. “Cause I don’t think I’ll feel safe in any old hotel room if you’re not around to save me again.”

“I can propose the station cells if you continue with the sexual harassment,” Athena shots from behind Eddie and he sags in relief when she swaggers by his side, hands on utility belt, aviator on. She is practically a foot smaller than he is, but she might as well tower protectively over him. “Now run along girl before I have to cuff you.”

The woman actually has the gall to be shocked, and she stomps away, shoulder checking Eddie like he’s the one at fault here.

They watch her go, Eddie so relieved he might kiss Athena. 

“You okay there Romeo?”

“I-I had this under control,” he says, aware that no one could believe him, especially her, but needing the semblance of control.

“Sure thing you had,” Athena snorts. “But I didn’t want to arrest Buckaroo over there for homicide.”

Eddie looks at her and around in incomprehension, and there is Buck, folding a firehose with laser focus. And _honestly_ , the way he looks should be illegal, LAFD shirt clinging to him, wet with sweat, the bare skin on his arms and face covered in soot and hair a mess of tiny curls and- now Eddie’s the one close to sexual harassment.

He manages to talk, a bit too late, because why would she arrest Buck for murder? “What.”

But Athena is already gone, cackling away.

Perhaps she’s loud enough, or perhaps the weight of Eddie’s gaze is too heavy, because Buck turns his head- the soot on his face hiding nothing of the flush on his cheeks after all that heat and physical activity. He startles, clearly not expecting Eddie to be so blatantly admiring him.

And just like that, Buck’s expression turns panicked and he fumbles with the hose before quickly lifting it off the ground and bringing it back towards the truck, eyes forward.

_Shit._

Whatever truce had been in place yesterday for Chris’ birthday and this morning is over. Buck’s still freaked out by Eddy asking him _M_ arry me in a tone that came from the heart and couldn’t be mistaken for a joke _._ That plus the six pack joke that was practically flirting. And Eddie was just checking him out during work… it’s not good.

He knows he can’t have Buck, not the way he wants anyway (which he accepted like a champ. Really), but he can’t lose him as a friend by scaring him away.

That’s why Buck’s acting weird, because Eddie’s weirding him out.

 _What Eddie needs is a plan._ To prove he can be Buck’s.. bro. Without making it weird any further.

Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t quite remember how to be _bro_ with Buck. So he needs to- _Fuck…_ He needs to find a way to act with Buck like he acts with Chimney. Except that would require to cut down on things that Eddie has considered essentials and an absolute given for the last two years. The hugs. The constant touches, be it the patting of shoulders or the playful hip checking at the gym. Eddie doesn’t do that with Chim.

Less play dates with Chris, because that one is hurting both Eddie and his son, because Buck won’t have the time to play house with the both of them when he gets into a relationship. And Eddie’s too comfortable with Buck there anyway, too forgetful it’s only temporary, and in a friendly capacity (the daydream he has, _Jesus_ … the lust he can take, but the ones where he can almost see a ring on Buck’s finger, his stuff around the house… those are too much).

No more crashing down at each other’s places several times a week. Eddie has been to Chim’s ONCE, that’s fine, that’s very… bro. _I need to get rid of Buck’s toothbrush_.

And keep his distance when Buck’s chatting up a girl, because he’s got a jealous vibe that makes them nervous, and they end up leaving, Buck’s confusion turning into acceptance with slumped shoulders. Heck sometimes Eddie doesn’t do anything, but Buck’s too good of a friend to think of himself first. Case in point, just last week he had been talking to a girl at a bar after a shift. Then Eddie had yawned. He yawned loud and if he was being honest, his eyes were getting fuzzy. In a matter of seconds, Buck was back at their table, the girl forgotten, announcing that he was driving his ass home and that he was sleeping at Buck’s. And Eddie didn’t even question or fight it that much, secretly pleased he ranked higher than some random scolding woman that Buck had been flirting with for half an hour.

 _That wasn’t bro behavior_. That was love sick puppy stuck into the- well, not friendzone, but certainly in the wrong pool of romantic partner prospects.

The fact he even ended up in this situation is crazy! He spent 32 years completely straight and then one little shit with baby blue eyes and blond hair flashed his dimples and cocky grin at him, and Eddie fell into a sexual identity crisis. And then the little shit had been shouting, not out loud but through every action: _I’m gonna love you and I’m gonna take care of you and your son and be your best friend and be there and support you and-_

Eddie’s fucked. But that doesn’t mean he needs to destroy all of this.

He just needs… to tone it down. To say _no_ to Buck when he offers too much, which is always. To take a step back and let someone help Buck… or love him. To say _I can’t_ instead of _of course_. To push him toward someone else. 

“DIAZ!”

Eddie startles and turns to Bobby -and the rest of the squad- who are looking at him in various states of worry and impatience. 

“Yeah Cap?”

Bobby has his hands on his hips. “You done staring at the ladder truck like it killed your puppy?”

Hen snickers and Chimney just pops his chewing gum. Buck’s now fussing with one of his suspenders, carefully not looking at him.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Eddie mumbles, gathering the hose he was folding when the woman was still after him, and he puts it in the truck. “All good.”

Bobby nods, but he has that look on his face, just the one he gets when he’s trying to weight if he should intervene when Buck’s doing something stupid. “Okay,” he says slowly, before gesturing at the trucks and ambulance, “back to the station.”

Eddie lets out a sigh. Not of relief, because he sure has hell never feeling that ever again, but of frustration.

Buck.

Bro.

Buck’s bro. 

He forces his eyes closed and rubs at them.

_Buck’s bro. Shit._

***

Buck doesn’t exactly keep his distances after that, still having his back, but Eddie’s gotten used to their shoulders brushing whenever they’re walking and sitting and eating and doing anything really, so Eddie feels the cold right now. There’s a sense of loss running through his veins, of dreadful anticipation.

That’s how it’s going to be, being Buck’s bro.

They’re on shift thought, and Eddie has other problems. Work is okay. Long. Fun. But so damn terrible, too.

There’s a kid. There’s a kid and he can’t be older than fourteen, all elbows and knees and awkward facial hair; though that Eddie only sees when he’s being loaded in the ambulance, and not hanging from the roof of a high rise in downtown LA. 

He wants to talk to no one, just wants to jump, to let go, but thankfully he can’t seem to quite do it (meaning he doesn’t want to die, he just wants it to all go away, whatever’s eating at him). Eddie has been on those kinds of calls before, but never for someone so young.

Bobby tries to get close, but whatever he says doesn’t please the kid and he shouts at Bobby to back off.

Hen and Buck are talking in hushed tones away from the group of first responders and Eddie frowns at that, at the way Buck is holding the kid’s bag for dear life and Hen’s clearly upset. Everyone is upset of course, a kid is about to jump, but the way she’s shaking her head… it feels personal.

She ends up gestures for Bobby and the tree of them talks for a moment, Cap looking at both Hen and Buck with those piercing eyes of his.

Then Buck gives him the bag and he and Hen slowly approach the roof side, work boots so loud on the gravel covering the roof, both on either side of the kid. They go slowly and maintain their distance, leaving enough space between them and the kid so they couldn’t possibly grab at him, but still stupidly sit on the side of the roof, legs dangling over the side.

Eddie’s blood runs cold, but Bobby grabs at his arm, forcing him to take several steps back that he didn’t realise he had taken toward the roof.

“Let them,” he whispers.

“They could fall!” Eddie hisses.

Bobby seems worried as well, it would take so little for either of them to fall by accident, but he shakes his head, hand still on Eddie’s arm like a vice. “Yes, but they don’t want to. And right now the kid needs that.”

“ _What is that supposed to mean?_ ”

Bobby shakes his head again. “Just- let them.”

  
  


It takes two excruciating hours. 

Eddie knows, because he alternate between looking at Hen and the kid and _Buck_ and his watch and Hen and the kid and Buck and his watch and Hen and-

He can’t hear whatever they’re talking about, but he can hear the kid crying loud and clear, so afraid and lost it’s triggering every fatherly instinct Eddie has; Hen keeps wiping down tears from her cheeks and Buck’s… Eddie can only the left side of his face. But it’s enough. He has seen that face once, when Buck was trying to tell him he got separated from Chris in the tsunami.

_Wrecked._

  
  


Two hours of constant talking and finally, finally, Hen and Buck scoots closer from the kid, both discreetly signaling the rest of them to be ready. 

The kid tenses, but then… he just deflates, worn out to the bone, and Eddie’s sure he’s going to fall, but Hen and Buck get to him in time and grab at him, preventing that.

Everyone exhales on the roof, tension rushing out. Eddie feels faint and he did nothing, so Hen and Buck must be drained.

When she swings around to face them, Buck still holds onto the kid and then they help him over the ledge, not letting go for a second. Eddie can see Buck’s mouth still moving, still reassuring the kid. Whatever he says, the kid seems _to listen_.

Chim gets close with his equipment, the cue for Buck to let the paramedics check their patient out for anything. When he tries to get up though, the kid refuses to let go of him.

Hen gets back to him and they talk again, Chim frozen on the way there, clearly unsure if he can get closer without sending the kid in another crisis. 

A few minutes ticks by, and the kid nods and lets Buck go but immediately clutches Hen instead.

As they pass each other, Chim pats Buck’s shoulder.

Buck doesn’t stop, he crosses the roof, going faster the closer he gets to the door, and disappears down the staircase. Eddie doesn’t think and doesn’t let Bobby stop him this time, following him. He’s surprised to see he didn’t go very far, just sitting on the last landing, head between his knees.

Eddie sits gingerly next to him.

“You okay?”

Buck takes a deep breath. The cement step directly below his head has three wet dots where his tears have fallen.

“No point in lying?” Buck asks, and it almost makes Eddies miles.

“Nope.”

“I feel like I’ve been ran over by a truck. And I actually came pretty close to that, so I know what I’m talking about,” Buck explains, shaken to the bone. “Bobby usually takes the lead on those calls.”

Eddie nods. He knows Buck might not want to talk, so he just asks, “need anything?”

Buck’s head shoots up. And the way he looks at Eddie, _fuck_ , like Eddie just asked him for the moon, or something as extravagant... 

“Too much,” Buck croaks after a bit too long, still staring at Eddie. “Damn too much.”

He’s saying something else though, something that Eddie can’t quite understand and Buck ends up looking away.

“Well,” Eddie says, unsure. “I only have twenty bucks in my pocket and that sure as hell won’t cover whatever you have in mind.”

Buck snorts. It’s a win, even if it’s small and a bittersweet kind of snort. “C’mon, let’s get the ambulance ready,” he says suddenly, getting up and stretching his legs and back, rolling his shoulders.

Like nothing happened.

Eddie takes his hand. _In his_.

They both freeze.

(Shit, why did he do that?)

“Why did he try to jump?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t want to know. It’s certainly going to give him nightmares.

Buck looks away. Breaths. Looks down at their joined hands. 

“Parents discovered he’s gay. Didn’t go well.”

Oh.

“We saw the little pride pin on the inside of his back,” Buck continues, shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to-”

He’s interrupted by the rest of the team, descending the stairs with the kid between them, and he snatches his hands away from Eddie’s quickly.

They get the kid into the ambulance, trying to shield him from the hungry onlookers and ambulance chasers, using their coats to prevent pictures and videos. The hospital will do a full psych eval and mandated suicide watch and hopefully, though Eddie’s not counting on it, the kid’s parents will realize what they did and work through their prejudice for their child’s sake.

Buck checks on the kid one last time and closes the door, slapping it twice to signal to Hen and Chim they can go.

“You and Hen did good,” Eddie tells him as they watch the ambulance pull off and merge in the traffic. He knows he’s face is pure adoration for Buck, and Eddie’s glad he’s still looking at the ambulance, back turned to him.

Bobby does see it though, frowning as he looks between the two of them. Eddie can’t with that look, doesn’t need his pity, doesn’t need the force of his concern on the side of his face, when all he can do is clear his throat and pat Buck’s shoulder. 

Hen probably dealt with homophobia her entire teen and adult life, but somehow Buck managed to help the kid too, because Buck’s always good at talking to patients on calls, at reassuring them, always so damn empathic.

“Nice one Buck”, he manages to say, too heartfelt and raw. “Nice one.”

It’s moments like these that are so extraordinarily hard to navigate: being in love with Buck not for all the things Buck does for him and Chris, but for the things he does for everyone else. How much he cares. How much he feels. How hard he fights.

***

That night, when their shift ends, Eddie gets in his truck and knocks his head on the wheel. Once. _Twice_. How long he can pull this off, he doesn’t know. 

_I have to._

Buck’s bro, no matter what.

He spends the ride home ruminating on ways to enforce that; distance he doesn’t want and will hurt them both; friendship that won’t ever be enough… it hurts, and it’s a miracle he makes it home in one piece with how distracted and confused as he is.

It’s only when he pulls into his driveway that he realizes Buck’s jeep is right behind him, parking as naturally as you please, like it’s his house too, _his home_.

Buck doesn’t say anything, just clasps him on the shoulder when he walks to him and gives him a tired smile. Eddie’s at loss for words, all the careful plans he had to negotiate and cut out of himself on the way home are already falling apart. So much for all the distance he swore on, all his resolve to say _no._

He doesn’t mention it. Buck doesn’t either. It’s nothing. Really. Eddie’s place is just… closer than his apartment, and it’s late and- any excuses will do.

They wave Clara goodnight -her knowing eyes borrowing deep into Eddie, damn her perceptiveness- and dump their gear bags on the hall, before bee lining for Chris’ room so they can watch him sleep for a long, restoring minute.

If the tension doesn’t kill Eddie, the domesticity will. They eat side by side at the kitchen isle, slumping over their respective plates, drained but finding solace in each other's presence, shoulders ever brushing.

“I wasn’t sure me and Hen could talk that kid down,” Buck lets out after a while of nursing his beer, eyes vague.

It must have been eating at him all day and Eddie marvels a little at that. Despite what he knows was a probably a pretty rough upbringing, starved from attention and affection, Buck didn’t end up an unfeeling brick wall. He carries it all with him, even long after the call is over, stubbornly refusing to hand it over as Chim would say.

“ _But you did_. You can’t save everyone, but you did save him.” Eddie thinks about it for a minute, then adds, eyes glued to his own beer, shaky hands around it. “Be angry at that kid’s parents. They might as well put him on that roof themselves and tell him to jump.”

He can’t even imagine not loving Chris every second of every day. It boggles his mind that people put conditions on the love they give to their kids, and decided to make them in the first place if they knew taking that love back was an option for them. 

Buck slaps the kitchen isle, rattling plates and cutlery, anger flaring and dying instantly, turning worriedly toward the hall and Chris’ door.

They both wait in silence, but Chris doesn’t wake up.

“ _Sorry_ . God I’m so- I just- my parents were like that,” Buck says, before gulping down beer, anger etched in every line of his face and body. “ _Okay with the gays as long as they weren’t at home_.”

Eddie’s so caught up in the resentment in his voice that he only understands the words a bit too late, almost joking about them not having to worry their homophobic sensitivities since Buck’s such a ladies’ man.

But the way Buck looks away, cheeks reddening, bracing for- bracing for Eddie’s reaction, he realizes.

And it clicks. All the little details of today. All adding up.

Very intelligently he says, “Uh I-”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I’m just… surprised.” _Fuck_ , he sounds like an homophobe, doesn’t he? “I mean I don’t think I ever heard you say anything about being-”

_I would remember, fuck._

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ve not been hiding I’m gay okay? Bisexual people exist. And. Well. I’ve never, you know. With a guy anyway. Not really. There was- he was…” Buck stops, the subject too painful. “ _They weren’t happy._ Not that the occasion didn’t present itself since I left their house, but- I guess I always had their voices in my head, pulling me back. But, yeah I’m bi. My parents were as supportive as that kid’s. I guess there was no point shouting it around _before_ , when there was no one that I, uh, liked that way. Hen knew since I started at the 118. And… Well I had to tell Bobby earlier or he wouldn’t have let me talk to the kid. I think he knew, too. Hell, Everyone knows. Not that I told them. They just. Guessed.”

Buck looks so raw, so fragile. That’s a lot to unpack here. Later, Eddie will think that’s why he didn’t realize the monumental admission Buck just pulled out of his chest.

“Hey man, I’m glad you trust me with this okay?” he says, and he is, but he also feels like a fool.

Inside, something breaks a little, and it’s so selfish he hates himself, but it’s there nonetheless. Because it’s one thing to know he can’t have Buck because he’s straight, and another to find out the man he’s in love with is bisexual, but just not interested. That’s why he doesn’t say he’s… whatever he is. He doesn’t have a neat label beside _Bucksexual_ , and that’s just… too weird and telling.

“You’ve got my back,” Buck says earnestly, shy and so, so damn perfect that Eddie takes him into a bear hug, savoring it while it lasts.

“And you’ve got mine,” he returns, burying his face in Buck’s neck for a second, inhaling him, all of him, sweat, faint shampoo and almost faded cologne.

_This is pinnacle bro behavior._

He forces himself to take a step back. “But you smell _ripe_ , and I probably do as well,” he says awkwardly.

Buck scrunches his nose in disgust after he takes an experimental sniff at himself. “Jeez. I should have taken a shower at the station,” he says ruefully.

_Why didn’t you?_

Eddie doesn’t ask. He knows. He knows that Buck must have seen Eddie make a beeline out of the locker room without taking one and followed suit, needing Eddie’s company tonight.

***

They take turn in the bathroom, needlessly waiting up on each other, and go check on Christopher one last time and-

They part at the guest room door, and Eddie, he’s fine. _He is_. Has to be. Because it’s that or he’ll never be able to pick himself up again.

And if he wakes up in the middle of the night, alone, that’s on him.

_I’m fine. I’ll be Buck’s best bro tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: The team respond to a call where a teenager is about to jump form a building. the kid is gay and his parents are homophobic. he's fine and safe by the end of the call.


	7. sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll say it still sunday, kay? kay

_I’m fine. I’ll be Buck’s best bro tomorrow._

Today’s rinse and repeat.

He wakes up to the smell of cooking food, gets out of bed and he’s greeted by Buck and Carla quietly talking in the kitchen. Carla looks barely awake, sipping coffee out of her reusable to-go cup. Guilt tugs at Eddie’s stomach, and he wishes he didn’t need her to come so early on a Sunday morning so he and Buck can go to work. He gives her a small hug and a soft “hey,” she replies in the same tone.

“There, I brought you coffee,” she says, pushing a to-go cup towards him.

“You didn’t have too,” he says, grateful. Eddie does have a sweet tooth, but no patience for making whatever fancy caramel latte can be found in a coffee shop.

“Yeah, thank you again Carla,” Buck says over his shoulder, still frying something that has the kitchen smelling heavenly like bacon.

Sure enough, there’s a third cup near the stove. Meaning that Carla _knew_ he was still going to be there in the morning.

Eddie avoids her knowing eyes, taking a mouthful of his _heart-attack in a cup_ coffee, and focuses on Buck, which is bad and probably proving so many of her theories.

Buck looks ruffled, bed head and all, still wearing Eddie’s shorts as a pjs, but this time he must have stolen a shirt as well. This one is Eddie, because it’s way too tight across his shoulders. He must have ran out of clean spare clothes here.

And either Eddie still half asleep, or he’s losing it, completely going off the rails, or he’s so fucking turned on by the man he loves wearing nothing but his clothes that it turns off his brain- he goes to him, resting his head on his shoulder, slumping against his side, looking at the omelet that Buck’s cooking, the side of bacon and tomatoes.

_This is home._

Buck tenses for a second and Eddie wakes up, but it’s too late, why does he always have to do this _Jesus fucking Christ_ , be like this, to take more than he’s given- Buck relaxes, and playfully elbows him in the ribs.

“You could have stayed in for a little longer,” Buck tells him, poking a strip of bacon with his fork and putting it right in front of Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie’s breath catches. Then slowly, aware Buck’s eyes are on him, _that Carla’s eyes are on them_ , he opens his mouth and takes the bacon, slowly chewing at the greasy deliciousness.

“Smelled too good.”

And yep, that’s pure adoration in his voice. He’s not sure he’s only talking about breakfast, either. So much for being Buck’s bro. Hell, Buck’s supportive bro. Buck who’s bi, who came out to him last night. Buck who’s not interested in Eddie anyway.

(Eddie has never been enough in his life, he knows)

Behind them, Carla audibly huffs, and Eddie refuses to acknowledge that.

Buck does though, “Hey don’t knock it out. Remember how bad I was at all this when we first met?”

“Oh I’m sure that handsome Captain of yours is a proud papa bear when he sees you with a spatula. You were hopeless, now you’re househusband material.”

And Buck… Buck absolutely glows at that, smug and content.

“Hear that Eddie? I’m husband material,” he brags.

Eddie nods, cause he knew already, before he detaches himself from Buck’s side like he’s been shocked. _Marry me marry me marry me_ , hammering away in his head as it always does, feeling on the edge of the crash landing he swore on avoiding.

“Yeah, pretty sure Bobby can get a half a dozen goats out of you now,” he says, trying for a derisive tone but it misses. He sounds choked up - _hell, he is choked up-_ and defensive _._

(Eddie can probably afford six goats. It’s a small price to pay for Buck he thinks)

Buck turns to him, pan and food forgotten, scandalized. “Half a dozen- excuse me, _I’m worth all the goats!_ ”

And this Eddie can manage, the banter and the jokes and the teasing. “Half a dozen, not one more,” he says, stealing another bacon stripe from the pan and popping it in his mouth. 

Yup, definitively the kind of stupid conversation they have with Chim and Hen all the time. This is broship. Totally.

“Carla, please back me up on this,” Buck begs her, now pointing an accusatory fork at Eddie, and gesturing down at his chest with his other hand. “I’m 6ft2 of pure muscles. That alone is like… thirty goats.”

Eddie snorts, “and I keep telling you you don’t know math.” Or how much Eddie wants to climb those 6ft2 like a tree.

“Not getting involved in this weird negotiation of yours,” Carla states gravely, but a second later she still adds, “but don’t forget you have blue eyes and are half golden retriever; that counts for something.”

Buck whispershouts at Eddie, triumphant, “What she said!”

“Being part puppy isn’t the winning argument you think it is Buck,” Eddie says rolling his eyes.

“AH! _But my blue eyes are?_ ” Buck gloats, in a gotcha tone that gives Eddie actual palpitations.

He swallows, looking at them, lost in them, Fuck, why is he so fucking pretty?”

“Okay. Ten goats. Tops,” he says, looking away, not liking this banter anymore or where it’s going. “And I’m being generous.”

“And how many goats do you think you're worth, Eddie?” Carla asks, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

“Eddie is at least worth two hundred goats. Half of it because he’s Chris’ dad, mind you, but that’s still lots of goats,” Buck rants, smiling, at the same time Eddie declares, “everyone knows I’m not husband material.”

The chill that spreads through the kitchen is a physical thing.

“What, no, that’s not-”

Eddie gives Buck a look. “Buck, _it is_.”

They look at each other, Buck clearly upset, and Eddie sets on his belief, on the stone cold facts of his many, many shortcomings, and the ruins of his marriage to Shannon.

“Okay, I’m gonna go wake up Christopher for breakfast and you to deal with your goat problem,” Carla announces and leaves the kitchen in a hurry.

“You’re not-”

“I was a shitty husband to Shannon. For real,” Eddie insists, because it’s true. “I would have left me too. And while we are being honest, you probably wouldn’t have liked me very much if you had known me back then.”

“ _I would have_ ,” Buck says, leaving no place for argument. He stops the stove and brings the pan to the table plates and cutlery already in place.

(This is all painfully domestic, down to the argument. And painfully familiar. Perhaps it’s a good thing Buck doesn’t see Eddie romantically, because Eddie would just mess it up)

Eddie looks at him for a second and then gets a move on, opening the fridge and taking out the orange juice and the milk. What is he supposed to say? He never knows what he’s supposed to say. If Diaz men are possessive bastards, they’re also emotionally incompetent. Eddie’s doing whatever he can to make sue Chris doesn’t end up like him or his father.

“You want some cereal with all that?” He tries.

Buck shrugs, _really_ busy dividing the omelette, fried bacon and tomatoes in between three plates. “I’ll pass on that sugary crap you submit yourself too.” Somehow his voice is both clipted and fond.

Eddie huffs. There’s nothing wrong with Lucky Charms and Buck would know that if he wasn’t so obsessed with body fat percentage -or if he had been stuck in a desert with only MREs to eat for nearly six years. 

So he takes out a bowl out too, and after rummaging in the cupboards for a second, he finds the embarrassing cereal package he hid in there Wednesday. The very one he bought without thinking (or rather, thinking too much about Buck) and stashed behind rice bags like a repressed memory. Buck loves that spupid and tasteless health mix so damn much. Eddie once had some at his loft, and promptly pushed the bowl back at Buck in disgust.

But Buck loves it, and Eddie knows what his unconscious was doing when it bought that: making his home Buck’s home. He puts it all on the table without saying a thing.

“No thank yo-” Buck stops dead, doing a double take at the cereal. “What-”

“DAAAAAAAD!” Chris shouts when he enters the kitchen.

“Hey mijo, how are you?”

“Great!” he says, hugging Eddie hard, before catching up with the extra person in the room. “Hey Buck!! You’re here too!!”

“Hey little man, surprise!” 

He gets a hug too, of course he does, and his fair share of adoration when Chris sees the breakfast he cooked. “Thanks Bucky.”

Buck _melts._ “Heeeey, can’t have you starve to death, now can I? We both know your Daddy’s no good around the kitchen.”

And the way they laugh at that, Eddie wants to be hurt, but he can’ muster it.

“Perhaps I’m no good at cooking, but I’m pretty good at seeing if we don’t get a move on we’re going to be late for work, Buckaroo.”

Buck sticks his tongue out, like the brat he is.

“Very mature,” Eddie comments, taking a deep breath. Buck looks obscene like this, in those clothes, at this hour. _He looks like Eddie’s_ , likes he’s been here for ages and staying, and it’s messing with his head.

“Hey, I’m only pretty and don’t know math,” Buck drawls, opening the OJ and pouring some to Chris, “you can’t expect me to be mature on top of that for just ten goats Eddie,” he says without heat.

When he sits down at the table, Eddie sees the way Buck’s staring at the cereal box. The faint disbelief in his eyes and fainter red on his cheeks.

  
  


***

Today their shift ends at noon. It was as uneventful as it was short. No one died under their care, nothing too horrible happened (beside the man with the glass beer bottle stuck up his ass, that somehow tried to pretend it was an accident). Everyone is in a good mood, ready to go home to their family and enjoy the afternoon.

All except Buck, because Buck doesn’t go home to anyone and it shows with the way he lingers with them as much as he can in the locker room, soaking up their company like he knows it’s silence and loneliness for the next 24h.

Eddie has been talking himself out of doing stupid for the past twenty minutes. _Put your foot down, let someone else take care of Buck, someone else love him. Let go._

So of course the second he steps out of the locker room, _Stay stay stay stay_ , finally makes its way out of his mouth. Though Eddie doesn’t invite Buck so much as acts like it’s a done thing already, gently pushing him in the direction of their cars, saying stuff like “Race you,” and “think about how good you’ll feel laying in the grass under the sun after being struck in traffic.”

Buck… does look confused, but Eddie powers through it, not caring, not willing to part. He feels like something gotta give, or he’ll explode, and he needs to spend as much time with Buck before… before he can’t, because he will burn what they have to the ground.

On the way home, passing the same streets as he did last night, he remembers he was supposed to be Buck’s best bro but, he argues with himself, being there for him is being a bro, right?

He’s such a terrible liar.

Chris is overjoyed of course when they both come home, and monopolizes their time for a while after Carla leaves demanding a recount of their morning shift and giving a detailed report of the different lego experiments he and Carla have been conducting. Finally hunger wins and Eddie and Buck decide on grilling some stuff in the garden for lunch.

(Eddie was right, this is what Buck needs, and to hell with the bro nonsense)

Except they end up having to facetime Bobby to save themselves from eating under _and/or_ overcooked meat, because Bobby has not got as far as barbecue with Buck’s cooking education.

Athena’s piercing laugh can be heard in the background while Bobby explains to them how to grill, slow as fuck but not unkind, like he’s teaching them how to lace their shoes. Eddie’s too grateful for it to bother him and the occasion to be close to Buck, shoulder to shoulder in front of the grill, phone between them.

When Buck tries to pick up a jalapeño pepper with his bare hands from the grill, Eddie shouts at him for ten minutes, because “Goddamnit YOU’RE A FIREFIGHTER YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER!”

But Buck -Buck who’s goal in life is to kill Eddie, Buck’s who’s so fucking hot without even trying- pops his not-quite-burnt finger in his mouth, with a little grimace of pain and Eddie grabs his other hand and marches him back in the house, into the kitchen and run cool water down the sink.

“It’s not that bad,” Buck tries, and he’s right, the tip of his index is barely red, but he still complies, and puts his finger under the water to pacify Eddie. “ _Don’t tell Bobby_.” He has the mind to be embarrassed at least.

“We’ll see.”

“DAAAD! The vegetables are turning black,” Chris calls from the garden and Eddie rushes back out, saving the rest of their meal but just in time.

They eat, laugh too much, shout too loud; Christopher harder and louder than the two of them combined and if Eddie could live in that afternoon forever, he would without hesitation.

A bit later, Eddie turns toward Chris, but his son sis face down on the grass, damn lego bricks stuck under his cheek.

He pats Buck’s knee and points at Chris. “Look like he’s got the right idea.”

Buck snorts, “Yup. Though I’m not sure he’ll appreciate it when we laugh at him for the lego marks embedded on his skin.” 

And just that image has them quietly giggling, Buck’s forehead coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, so damn natural it hurts. He stays that way for a while, long after they have stopped laughing. It takes everything Eddie has not to drag him closer, take his face in his hand and angle it just right so they-

“Better put him in a more comfortable position,” Buck says eventually, getting up and putting his half finished beer on the garden table.

Buck helps Eddie roll Christopher into a better sleeping position, before he jogs back inside and brings back a pillow for his head, giving Eddie that sunshine smile of his. “Tadaaa,” he whispers as he produces the pillow in Eddie’s hand so he can put it under Chris’ head. “Better than lego.”

It’s all so painfully domestic that when they’re done, Eddie plops on the grass beside his son and fakes a yawn so he has an excuse to close his eyes and _yearn_ in peace.

  
  


***

When he wakes up, his head is pillowed on Buck’s lap and his hand is carding through his hair.

This is heaven. This is hell. This might be a dream, and Eddie isn’t sure he wants to wake up from it. Everything’s a little fuzzy, sun so bright, sky so blue and Buck, hell, Buck so soft looking like that above him, it really is unfair. How is he supposed to get over him? Or want to?

Buck doesn’t even have the decency to look away. _No_. Eddie waking up only brightens his smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I miss the floof,” Buck says nonsensically.

Yep this is definitively a dream. “Hmm?”

“Your hair. You cut it so short now. When you first got here, you had that,” he gestures to his head, soft smile, softer eyes on him, “ _floof_. I miss it.”

Eddie swallows.

“Where’s Chris?” he says, looking around, after a bit too long staring at Buck, at his lips, at his birthmark. At the way he has yet to look away from Eddie.

“I moved him into his bed a while ago,” he says, “apparently the grass-” he chuckles incapable of holding the solemn expression he was trying for, “the grass was tickling him too much,” and he dissolves into a giggling feat, belly shaking with it and jostling Eddie’s head.

 _You’re so fucking pretty_ , he wants to say. But he nods instead, still sleepy, and so confused “‘kay.”

 _Fuck_ Buck put his head on his lap. Buck managed to move Chris _away from him_ , and then move _him_ on his lap. Eddie, who’s got two tours in Afghanistan under his belt, who can barely sleep through the night sometimes, always woken up by an odd noise around the house, or in the street. Eddie, whose sleep is so light because sleeping too heavily means death, even years after. And Buck just moved him.

And he slept right through it.

( _Even asleep he knows_. Even asleep he’s in love and safe and so, so goddamn lucky to have Buck around)

“I don’t have time to maintain-” he snorts, trying to keep his emotions from spilling out of his mouth, “the floof.” Nor the energy. “But, your opinion is noted.”

Buck smiles at that, bashful.

Eddie isn’t that vain (he is), but he liked the floof too. Styling it every morning in the mirror had been great after nearly seven years of being buzzed to military standards without so much as a choice. He liked the looks he got, envy or lust depending. He liked that he was free to do what he pleased. He likes how he had to push it all away from his forehead, all sweaty after a tough call and the air it gave him.

He had liked his floofly, pretty boy hair.

Then Shannon died. And there was so much to do, so many forms to fill, so many appointments to make; so many choices, so little time. Especially when he could barely get out of bed, save for Christopher needing him. So he had buzzed down the floof, buzzing the inconvenience away and the lack of time for himself. 

Now he remembers the way the team had looked at him that night, when he showed up for their shift. The way Buck’s eyebrows had furrowed in concern, Bobby’s hand on his shoulder, shaking his head and stopping him from asking.

Buck has always _seen_ him.

Eddie doesn’t know what it means for Buck to have opinions on his hair, though _he_ has opinions on Buck’s hair and knows what it means (ungelled and going curly, and the scruff. _Fucking hell the scruff_ ). 

“Sure you can’t be persuaded to grow it back?” Buck asks, blue eyes tracking his fingers as he cards them through the short hair on Eddie’s forehead.

Then he tugs.

 _He tugs_ , lightly, but with purpose, tilting his head as he does so, admiring his handiwork, mouth slightly opened.

Eddie moans.

He can’t help it, the way it trashes out of him like unexpected thunder, rocking him to the core. 

He must blink out of existence for a short moment, but when he comes back to himself, Buck’s still looking down at him, faint blush on his cheeks, blooming down the collar of his stretched shirt (Eddie wants to follow it with his mouth, _taste_ where it goes). He bites his bottom lip, fingers still in Eddie’s hair, his other hand not so casually resting on his lower abdomen. 

And if Eddie’s world is reduce to this, _to them_ , to the inch or so of skin that is exposed between his shirt and his pants and the maddening way Buck’s fucking pinky is just… _there_.

Buck tugs at his hair again and Eddie can just groan, forcing his lips and eyes shut so he doesn’t embarrass himself further.

“You sure you can’t be swayed?” Buck asks again, like a colossal tease.

The- the fucking _audacity_.

“Buck I’m-” no idea how he plans to finish that sentence, because Buck’s doing something and it’s not running away or choking on a cookie from shock at Eddie’s feelings and that’s freaking him out.

And Buck is petting Eddie in ways that don’t exactly scream bro. 

Hysterically, he flashes back to Chim showing it that old vine a while back, the one with the _two bros chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay_. This is the polar opposite.

Perhaps Chim was into something.

Perhaps Chim knows a lot more than Eddie does.

_Shit._

He and Buck have always been affectionate with each other, but _this_ -this is different.

“Good different?”

“Uh-” Eddie realizes he must have spoken out loud. 

“You haven’t run for the hills yet,” Buck says in a rush, like all the bravado he had to that point evaporated, “And I-I understand if you want me to leave I’m just so so tired of _pretending this isn’t what I want_ -”

The second ‘leave’ is out of his mouth, Eddie’s hand shoots up to grip at Buck’s hand resting on his abs.

“Don’t- don’t go,” he begs.

Bucks exhales, relief flooding his face, hands clenching his, thumb brushing his fingers, large blue eyes flickering to their joined hands, to his eyes, his lips. In fairness, he seems as bewildered as Eddie feels.

“This okay? S’not … freaking you out?” his voice is so small Eddie’s heart cracks. 

He likes Buck loud and assured and overwhelming, even if realistically, he knows it’s impossible to be that all the time. Eddie knows, but he hates when Buck makes himself so small, like he’s only allowing himself a small space, and even that seems too much for him.

Eddie shakes his head, squeezing his hand.

“How isn’t this freaking you out?” he’s not asking Eddie, but instead muttering it to himself in shock.

Eddie frowns “What-” then it dawns on him. “I’m not-” he swallows that back, closes his eyes for a second, trying to get his words right. “I figured a while ago that you were -are- who I want. I was a little confused, and I still don’t know what it means to my, uh, sexuality, but this-” his other hand goes to Buck’s cheek, the faint stubble tickling his skin and Eddie’s not used to that, but it’s Buck. It’s always Buck. _Buck Buck Buck_ , drumming under his skin, who melts at the contact, pushing his head into his hand like he’s starving for contact. “I wake up dreaming of this,” Eddie confesses.

The smile on Buck’s face is more blinding than the sun above them. “You dream about me?” He can hardly believe it going by his tone, like Eddie just punched him in the guts, joy so violent it’s winding him.

“Yeah?” he confirms, even if it comes out as a question. He’s not unsure, just shaky that it’s okay. That caring that much, that intimately, is allowed. That it makes Buck so damn radiant. “All the damn time. Even when I’m awake.” After a pause he whispers, eyes meeting Buck’s, his whole being buzzing at the confession, “ _especially when I’m awake_.”

“Holy shit,” Buck breathes. 

He’s pure sunshine at this point and Eddie’s thinking hard, real hard, gears in his head solely focused, trying to evaluate if, perhaps, just perhaps, he can risk pushing up on his elbows and meet Buck for a kiss.

“Good,” Buck says a little late. Eddie can see moisture caught in long eyelashes, can feel his pulse picking up with the way his hand on Buck’s cheek has fallen a bit on his neck. “Cause I’ve been doing the same for ages, and it’s been killing me,” he admits, laughing.

Eddie’s smile flickers off, blinking in confusion.

Cold doubt pours into his veins. Shannon had been generous with her assurance of love and her need to get him back at the end. Until she changed her mind and asked for divorce just when he accepted he wanted her back too.

“What about Abby?” _Shit_ , his voice is sharp and Buck flinches like Eddie cracked a whip next to his head.

But four days ago, Buck was ready to try again with her and Eddie knows that Buck’s worth the heartache, but that doesn’t mean he’ll take it, and drag Chris along with them.

There’s no trace of smiling on Buck’s face, every bit drained. “Eddie-” he starts, and Eddie doesn’t like his name said in that pleading tone, not like this. Shannon was good at that as well.

He pushes off his elbows, but not to kiss Buck like he wanted a minute ago, instead leaving Buck’s direct orbit because it’s messing with his head and he gets up, putting some distance between them. 

Buck follows suit, frantic to get on his feet. 

“Eddie, I thought,” Buck persists, grabbing at his shoulders, begging with his entire body, “I thought you were straight! I-I thought I was that sad cliché with the unrequited feelings and the pinning. At best,” he forces Eddie to look at him, “ _at best_ I thought I would lose you as my best friend, making it weird. That you would be uncomfortable -not at the- the-” he stammers, jaw working hard, “the bi thing. But at the _my best friend is in love with me and I don’t know how to deal_ . At worst, you would freak out. Hard.” Eddie struggles at that, heat coming to his cheeks, because he might not have a neat label to put on himself, but he’s not a fucking homophobe either. Buck must guess what he’s thinking and talks over him before he can say so, big, strong hands anchoring him. “No, _listen._ Guys say they’re okay with it until another guy wants to kiss them.”

 _Okay with the gays as long as they weren’t at home_.

That’s how Buck said it when he talked about his parents. Perhaps more than his parents. He did mention a _he_ , and the pain in his voice last night... Eddie has a lot of experience with murderous feelings, and that’s- he closes his eyes, forcing his breathing under control.

He wants to ask, but Buck isn’t finished, coming to rest his forehead against Eddie. “I had very, very little hope that you would ever return my feelings. I just hoped I could keep you-”

“As long as you could,” Eddie finishes for him, closing his eyes, just letting himself be close to Buck. “I know the feeling.”

“So you can’t be mad. _You can’t be mad_ . I- this isn’t new for me. I’ve felt like this for you for so fucking long Eds. But you were back with Shannon. And I promise myself after Abby that I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t play ghost. So I tried to make it work with Ali. And neither worked, and it was just us, just me and my feelings for you. Me, in love with my straight best friend. So for a hot minute I convinced myself that Abby returning was some kind of sign. _But I love you,_ ” he swears, cuping his cheeks. “And you can’t- Eddie you can’t resent me for trying to move on from that, because until fucking Thrusday I really had no clue you might feel the same way and then I thought _you_ guessed how I felt and I freaked out, I thought you would be mad that I- I loved you. And I wanted to hear- _fuck_. S-Stuff like that for real, not as a joke. But it didn’t sound like a joke.”

 _Marry me._ It had rushed out of him, but not as a joke.

Eddie nods. He has no leg to stand on anyway and while Buck doesn’t mention Ana, it’s clear he’s thinking about her and the date he asked Buck to babysit Christopher for. God. He’s such an idiot.

“I thought you were straight too,” he offers in a way of apology.

Buck chuckles, fear receding, taking everything away like the tsunami did, leaving only them and overwhelming relief. “With all the jokes and allusions Chimney made in the past two years, about me looking at you like you hang the moon or something, I really thought it was impossible.”

“Chim’s always teasing you.”

“He and Hen have a _Buck looking at Eddie’s ass per day counter_ thing going on. Winner makes dishes,” Buck rubs his face, so mortified it’s endearing. “They haven’t exactly been subtle. And, I just need to say that okay?” he searches Eddie’s eyes, serious again. “When I came to see you that night I was upset. But- not about Abby. Not really. I was upset because we fought and since the lawsuit it’s… freaking me out. Us fighting. And you said out loud what everyone else has been thinking about my relationship with her, what I’ve been fearing for ages. On top of that, when I saw her… all I could think about was you. I knew when I got there, even before she opened the door I wouldn’t try again, even if she wanted me back. It felt… wrong. _Because I love you_. So I came here because you were angry and probably worried about me anyway. I can’t lose you Eddie. It was just- a lot to process. Between the closure and well, I guess accepting that I would always be your best friend and only that- that eventually I would have to see you move on, or be your best man or something…” he seems so ashamed, so fragile.

“I’ve been dreading sitting arrangements,” Eddie admits. 

Buck shoots him his confused puppy eyes.

“You know- we always sit together at parties and dinners. Chris was between us at Christmas, like Denny was between Hen and Karen. And I love it. _Love you_. But I've been dreading having to give that up to some-” he gestures helplessly, still too scared by that faceless, imaginary woman that is around the corner to steal Buck away from him, “to someone else.”

He knows he’s a lot. He knows the baggage he drags is heavy, between the ugly scars his relationship with Shannon left and his time in the army. He knows that even if Chris didn’t have CP, getting in a relationship with a single parent can be tough and full of responsibilities that outsiders might not be ready to bear. Hell, Eddie is Christopher’s dad and he had not been ready.

It would be so much easier for Buck to start from scratch with someone new.

Buck must follow his train of thoughts and is already, vehemently shaking his head. “There is no one else.”

_The fucking steel of his voice._

Eddie does the math in his head, the risk/reward equation of getting Buck, only to lose him down the road. He’s willing to put his heart on the line, but Chris’... 

“I love you. I love Christopher. What, you think after two years I’m suddenly going to say, _no this is too much?_ ” Buck spats, before, pushing his forehead against his again, nose brushing, lips so fucking close, his hands digging into Eddie’s left shoulder and right side, keeping him close. “Eddie, I’ve been _sick_ of not getting enough for- for so fucking long. This isn’t some kind of- of puppy love that I’ll grow out of. It’s been growing. Every fucking time you smile my way it’s been growing. Every time Chris slams into me for a hug it’s been growing. You guys are _it_ for me. Don’t doubt that.”

Eddie feels threatened. But... in a good way? He didn’t know that was a thing. Like Buck is telling him that there’s a lot of commitment coming his way, whether he likes it or not. 

“So if you want to take it slow and not say anything to Chris, I’m more than okay, but don’t fucking doubt me.”

Eddie nods minutely, panting against Buck’s mouth. He can… he can work with that. “Okay, okay. I-” _Jesus_. How is he going to stop saying that now? “I love you too, Evan.”

The smile Buck gives him is incandescent. And Eddie realises how close they are, even by their standards, clutching at each other for dear life, Buck’s hands on his shoulders, thumbs brushing his neck, digging at his pulse point. His own hands are clasping Buck’s wrist and forearm, locking him in place, marveling at his warm, soft skin under his fingers, the muscles and force beneath it, all for him, always, if he only dares ask.

It occurred to him that instead of staring at each other, eyes flickering to parted lips, they could kiss. That they’ve been stupid and scared, but kissing is okay now.

Eddie’s been dreaming of solid ground under his feet for so long, he suddenly doesn’t care for it to be a soft landing. He loses altitude fast, risks forgotten, doubt burning away like jet fuel, and crashes himself into Buck -just as Buck reels him in, as demanding, as desperate. Teeth clashes and noses bump together painfully, but neither seem to care.

There’s a _ooof_ , and Buck’s like a brick wall against him, sun warmed and steady. He’s just taller enough that he needs to tilt his head down, and Eddie has to tilt his up. That’s novel, cause Eddie never kissed someone taller than he was before, or someone that could sand his cheeks with his stubble. He finds he likes it, _a lot_. Too much, by the way he’s moaning into the kiss, hips glued to Buck’s, needing friction, and cock filling in his pants.

They’re both grinning so hard it’s difficult to actually kiss, nipping at each other lips, and staring in each other eyes, feeling seen and _found._

It gets heated again real fast, both coming on from months of frustration and pent up desire. Eddie’s hands descend the planes of Buck’s barrel of a chest to come to rest on his hips, fingers curling in his belt loops, and a lone index possessively digging into his skin underneath the waistband of his jeans. 

“I have a bed,” he pants in Buck’s mouth.

Buck moans something that could be _Holy shit_ but sounds a lot like a yes, but Eddie needs a yes, a definitive, life altering yes, so he asks again. “Inside?” He wants Buck, in whatever capacity he can have.

Buck nods against the side of his face, “yeah, let’s- _wait_.”

His _wait_ makes Eddie run cold for a second -shit, he overstepped, he pushed, he-

“Buck I’m so-”

“No. It’s not. _That_ . I want you so hard my dick might fall off-” Eddie kisses him quiet, heat burning, want rattling his bones. Buck’s going to be the death of him. “No, seriously, don’t we need to - _Jesus Edmundo Diaz_ , stop doing that!” Buck actually, bona fide whines breaking away from the kiss .

“I’m doing nothing!” Eddie pants -Buck’s lips are so fucking red, shit, how is he supposed to-

“Looking at me! Like you want to eat me.”

The image that pops in Eddie’s head makes him go weak at the knee.

“Stop it!”

“ _Not. My. fault_ ,” he grits through his teeth, wanting so damn much he aches. “There’s only you to look at, _Evan.”_

“And again with the name calling,” Buck mutters, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and smashing their mouths together artlessly and Eddie so fucking into it damn it, who fucking knew he would get so hard being manhandled?

Eddie mumbles something to him, making no effort to be intelligible, something he’s too unsteady for Buck to hear, but still needs to say. Something warm and true.

“What Was that?" Buck frown down at him, "and- _Jee-fucking-sus Eddie._ Don’t we need to talk?”

Eddie’s so confused. “About?”

Buck looks down at him, all blue eyes and dimples. 

“-so fucking beautiful,” Eddie hears himself say in awe, because now he can say shit like this out loud.

“Well, thank you,” Buck says, shy and smug at the same time. “You’re very handsome too.”

“Shut up.”

Buck laughs. “Nooooo, continue to tell me I'm beautiful. People hitting on me usually just say hot.”

Eddie isn’t jealous. _Eddie is literally in Buck’s arms_. Eddies doesn’t need to curse anyone for the audacity of hitting on his- on his Buck.

“So… talk about what?”

“You know. _Us._ Together. And probably how to break the news to Bobby,” Buck explains in a rush.

Eddie frowns. “Well. Aren’t we… together?” he stumbles on the next word. “Boy-boyfriends?”

He wants it all.

Buck sighs in relief. “ _Really in love boyfriends_ ,” he confirms, nodding madly, kissing Eddie’s temple, mouthing at his cheek before kissing his mouth again.

“Good. We talked, can we-” his hips are back against Buck’s on their own. Really. “Please.”

Buck shakes his head like he’s drunk. “What about Bobby?”

“ _What about Bobby?_ I didn’t realize his approval was that essential to this?” Eddie rants, frustration getting the better of him, kiss drunk and sun drunk and Buck drunk.

“I mean. Not _Bobby Bobby_. Captain Nash,” Buck explains.“Pretty sure it’s LAFD policy to report this to our superior officer as soon as it, uh, happen.”

By the way his eyes glaze over, he wants this to _happen_ as soon as Eddie does. 

He thinks for a minute -it’s hard with all of his blood otherly occupied.

“Can we talk to him tomorrow? There are better ways to spend our Sunday afternoon than show up back to work to fill out some forms.”

Buck nods along with him. “You’re so right, Diaz. I knew I loved you for more than the pretty face.”

Buck quickly pecks him on the nose and just that- not lust, not want, just that simple affirmation of love- it brings Eddie to tears.

“ _Oh shit_ ,” crawls out of his mouth, emotion too high. He kinda tries to squirms out of Buck’s arms, but that would be pretty impossible even if he wasn’t crying.

“Hey hey, I got you, okay?” he says in his ear, big hands splayed on his back, rocking him a little.

“I know, I’m just-” whatever he says next he can barely decipher himself and by the look Buck is giving him, he mustn't have made much sense.

“Dad?”

That cuts right through him- them, actually, as Buck shoots up and _away_ , like he’s been caught stealing cookies. Fucking hell, Eddie is absolutely mystified that neither of them heard his freaking crutches. 

Chris got the cutest sleepy face ever, until he sees that Eddie’s been crying and he turns toward Buck in incomprehension, note the distance or the weird, guilty face Buck is making and he’s all outrage, charging at Buck with all the might of a scorned nine year old.

“YOU MADE DAD CRY! _WHY!?_ ”

He sounds so betrayed and angry that Eddie’s heart swells for a second with how much his kid loves him. That is, until Chris gets to Buck -all six feet two of him- and pushes him further away from Eddie with everything he got. Buck stumbles back, blue eyes like saucers widely going from one Diaz to the other.

Eddie realizes too late Buck isn’t going to pick Chris up, that he’s going to take whatever punishment Chris sees fit until Eddie intervenes -following his lead, because that’s what they agreed on, taking it slow with Chris, for his own sake.

Eddie swipes Chris off his feet before he can punch Buck’s thigh for the third time with his ridiculously tiny fist, holding him close and hard.

“Hey mijo- that’s-” he’s so shocked that he can barely talk. Chris angry is a rare enough occurrence. Chris angry at Buck never happened before. “Bucky didn’t hurt me okay?”

“But you were crying!” Christopher protests.

“Not all tears are because we’re sad. I was just so relieved and so happy at something Buck said I needed a good cry,” he explains, not sure it can make sense to a child.

Chris glances at Buck, who looks sheepish and devastated. Eddie can feel Chris mellowing, tension running out of his small body and he nods, putting his hands on both of Eddie’s cheeks. “What- what did Bucky say?”

Eddie panics. He hoped he would have more time to come up with excuses for Buck being around _more_ , to eventually explain that they were together and what it meant. He heard enough nightmarish stories about kids completely turning on adults they adored once said adults entered a relationship with their parents. He doesn’t want that for Chris or for Buck. 

He looks at Buck helplessly and Buck, in the Buckiest way possible, announces, “I told him I could sleep over again tonight and that we could have pizza and video games.”

So easy.

Chris whoops from joy, deafening Eddie for a second and he kisses the top of his head, mouthing _Thanks Evan,_ the instant their eyes meet over Chris’ head.

“Now mijo, you have something to say to Bucky?”

Chris hides his face in his father’s neck for a minute, before he turns to Buck, the whole body asking for him to be picked up by the other man and- of course Buck comes, jogs back to them, carefully taking Chris from Eddie like he has done hundreds time before.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” he mumbles. 

“It’s okay kid. If I made your dad cry for real, I would have deserved it. I’m not mad.”

“Can we eat pizza now?”

“Uuuh-”

“Christopher, it’s not even four yet,” Eddie admonishes, heart sizing at them together, but still trying for his _and that's final_ tone.

“But I’m hungryyyy.”

“I can… make a snack?” Buck proposes easily, before checking with Eddie, worried. 

Damn it‘s going to be a little weird, this new thing of easing Christopher into the known and Buck’s newfound fear of overstepping.

“I could go for a snack,” Eddie reassures, putting his hand on the small of Buck’s back and guides him back inside the house.

***

Buck and Eddie are terrible at keeping their hands off each other the rest of the afternoon and in the evening, it only gets worse.

Every time Christopher’s attention is somewhere else, every time he leaves the room, or they can stray around the kitchen, they’re kissing, hands roaming strong arms, warm backs and stupidly shredded abs.

It’s a weird dance, and Eddie knows some of the steps, having navigated this particular side of being in a romantic and sexual relationship while having a kid with Shannon before. No touch is enough; all of them seem inappropriate. 

The worst is when they’re preparing a cake Christopher insists on Buck making; which, once again, requires Bobby to be facetimed for damage control because if Buck can cook pretty well these days, he still needs Bobby telling him _it’s going to be okay_ when he fears messing up.

Eddie doesn’t miss the way their Captain’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when he realizes that Buck is still here, or the pointed was Athena asks “that boy has actually moved in or what?”

They’re bumping shoulders through the whole process, even with Christopher’s trying to keep him away from the batter, because “Daddy can’t cook,” and “I want a good cake.”

“You’re mean to me mijo,” he says, hands going dramatically to his heart.

“It’s the truth,” Christopher shrugs, cold as fuck in that nine year old way that makes Buck snorts so bad he has to stop mixing until he can look at them without bursting into manic giggles.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to feed you Diaz boys.” He says it in a joking tone, but glances at Eddie, challenging, _try to send me away and you’ll be sorry_ clear in his eyes. “But we better shell out for something short of amazing for Bobby’s birthday or he’ll stop teaching me.”

Eddie half sits on the counter right next to Buck, and the second Chris is busy with his crayons on the kitchen isle, his hand shoots to Buck’s waist, up his chest, his neck, wanting nothing more than to smash their faces together for another searing kiss. There’s a lot of eye fucking for a minute, of unsaid promises and bitted lips.

Buck looks away, taking a second to compose himself. But Eddie forces his head his way again, hungry if only just to look at him, and Buck drops the whisk, ropes and drops of batter flying on the counter and the floor, making a small mess.

“I told you Daddy was a bad cook,” Chris giggles without so much looking at them, completely unaware.

They clean, and Buck finishes with the batter. By his side, Eddie helplessly butter the baking pan before Buck can pours. Baking isn’t supposed to feel this sexual. Leave it to them to turn chocolate cake into some study in self restrain and frustration. 

The counter is _right there_ . And Buck would be malleable for him, only for him, would let himself be pushed on it, invite Eddie between his thighs with a welcoming moan, _ready to take it_ and let loose the burning desire that has been building up under their skin for months.

But Chris is here and that’s not an option, so he has to comfort himself with the matching heat in Buck’s eyes and the _later_ they keep whispering to each other like a prayer.

***

Eventually, afternoon is over and it’s time for pizza. Eddie’s so worked up that when Chris announces that he’s going to play in his room until it’s delivered, he pushes Buck against a wall a little too hard and just- just pushes his shirt up and _the damn fucking view…_

“You’ve seen it before,” Buck chuckles, cheeks red.

Eddie shakes his head, eyes locked on the v of his hips and his happy trail. He should be freaked out by how much he wants to lap at that and follow it down his pants, but he can’t muster a small fuck. “ _Not like that_ ,” he says after a second, eyes going back to Buck’s, his eyes so dark he can barely see a sliver of blue. “Not knowing you wanted me to.”

“Yeah, I want you to do more than look,” Buck challenges, eyes dazed and knocking back his head softly against the wall.

“Yeah?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

They make out like that for a while, engrossed by each other skin, the press of strained dicks in the confines of their respective jeans, the playful silencing of moans and _later, later, later,_ kissed and promised again and again, until the front door rings and Chris’ “PIZZZZAAAA!!” two doors down the hall brings them back down to Earth.

“Later,” is kissed on Eddie’s lips one more time.

***

Despite the frustration, they have a fun evening playing video games and watching cartoons with Christopher, eating too much pizza. 

And if they’re overdoing the cocky _come at me, man_ attitude when they play Mortal Kombat, it’s their business. 

After a while, Chris is just a snoring weight on Eddie’s side and they both look at each other. _Later_ is soon approaching.

Eddie expertly carries Chris to his bed (both happy that he made him change in his pjs after dessert and the stern look he had to give him about cleaning his teeth about an hour ago). He lingers still, amazed at his little man, kissing the top of his head and making sure he’s tucked in like he prefers, crushes up and ready next to his bed if he needs them during the night.

When he gets back to the living room, Buck has cleaned the coffee table from the remnants of pizza and beers, shut down the console and TV, and piled the throw blankets and pillows in a pleasing manner. 

He also has his arms crossed, hands tucked under his armpits, looking at Eddie like a spooked animal.

“So-”

“ _We don’t have to do anything, you know that right?_ ” Buck says in a rush.

“I know,” Eddie says, careful. Grateful even. “ _Do you?_ ”

“Yeah. It’s just- I’ve never, uh, not with a guy. Not really. But I want to.”

And there’s a story there, someone that obviously marked Buck, but Eddie knows ruining this because he’s curious or jealous isn’t an option. _Ruining this isn’t an option_.

“Same here. Whatever you’re willing to give, I’ll take.”

And it’s awkward for a second, pent up want and a little fear of flying heavy in the air, mixing wrong, until Buck laughs and basically saunters at him, glorious smile and all. He’s right within kissing distance when he slows down, still angling his head toward him, but his eyes are boring holes in Eddie’s and when their lips meet, one of them makes a small, helpless noise and the chaste kiss turns violent and hungry in a matter of seconds.

Buck pushes him back on the couch with ease -at least when Eddie’s lust induced fog lifts and he understands that Buck isn’t pushing him away. The taller man crawls on his lap like he’s done it before (he did it enough, only in Eddie’s fantasies and dreams). By all means, it should be at least awkward in terms of weight and height, but it’s not. It’s not, and he feels pinned down in the best of way, just where Buck wants him. By the tent on the front of his jeans, he wants him a lot.

The pressure is- fucking hell. Amazing. Buck looks down at him, and he’s so fucking beautiful.

The constrict of his jeans is becoming bothersome, especially once Buck perfects the tilt of his ass and how to grind it to perfection against his crotch.

“I-I- _fuck_. Eddie I- wanna get fucked first is that’s alright with you,” Buck begs all polite and proper between sloppy kisses, which gets Eddie going like nothing else. “I’ll top you whenever but-”

Eddie’s hands dig into his hips, in a way that will leave marks. For months the filthiest fantasies had been playing in his head and literally NOTHING comes close to Buck demanding to be spread open and fucked by Eddie, while he’s on his lap, begging for it with more than his words, with his entire body.

“I’ll fuck you so good _Buck_ , I’m gonna ruin you- for-” he moans, because Buck is so fucking good and has opened the front of his jeans, and his dick straining against his firetruck red underwear, a dark wet spot already there at the tip, moaning his relief to be freed. “ _Fuck, I’ll ruin you for anyone else_ ,” he promises, not caring in that moment that he has never touched a dick that wasn’t his own once in his life. He’s gonna do it anyway, give him everything, absolutely anything, so Buck never leaves, never wants to leave.

“You already have,” Buck says, cupping his cheeks, earnest. “Fuck- you have a bed.”

And yes, he has. And a door that locks.

And while they both agree, actually moving is harder -ah!- that it sounds. First because Buck is extra cozy on his lap, still grinding away like he might chafe holes big enough to get to Eddie’s dick. And second… _fuck_ , Eddie’s hand has moved on from his hip to the waistband of his underwear, thumb brushing it and, after a second and Buck shoving his hips forwards in invitation, no trace of shame, Eddie brushes the wet spot and Buck keens, the sound of him going straight to Eddie’s dick.

“You’re a menace,” he says, biting his lip, when the spot grows a little bit bigger and he wants to taste it- so he does, darting his tongue against the pad of his thumb, Buck staring at him like he can’t believe it. It’s salty and strong and kinda weird, but Eddie’s not above developing a Pavlovian response to it, because if it gets Buck this crazy - _Jesus_.

Buck exhales, “Bedroom,” so prettily at the end of his rope, fumbling to get off his lap. “Fuck!” 

Both of them are shaky on their legs, Buck dragging him through his house like a man on a mission and if Chris had been sleeping elsewhere, Eddie would have already thrown Buck against a wall -but they behave and the second they enter his bedroom, Eddie locks the door and pushes Buck, oh so willing and grinning like a loon, towards the bed and begins to undress him, button by fucking button, revealing his pecs and his abs inch by inch, because he can see it’s driving Buck insane and he could use more patience anyway. God he’s so fucking gorgeous.

Then comes his pants and his underwear, but that’s only a matter of Buck toeing his shoes off and wiggling his hips until his open jeans pool around his ankles, quickly followed by him pushing his underwear down without ceremony.

And Eddie perhaps had a plan, perhaps might have enjoyed torturing him... but Buck’s dick springs out against his lower abdomen, big as the rest of him, and Eddie has so much less brain cells functioning at the moment. He’ll mourn the need to mouth Buck through his underwear until the front is soaking wet with saliva and precome another time.

Next time.

He takes a step back, not in fear but in awe, because he just found an altar worth worshiping more than once a year.

“Hmm-” Buck looks unsure for the first time, frowning at Eddie and the distance between them.

Eddie would slap himself if he could.

Instead, he barrels back into Buck and kisses him mad, hands roaming everywhere, breathing reassurances against his skin, his mouth, that he only stepped out to look and not to get away.

It’s all kisses and moans and reverent, hungry whispers.

“You’re far too dressed, get these off now,” Buck demands.

“ _Yeah, Evan anything, anything._ ”

***

They are both naked.

It’s a lot of skin, a lot of possibilities. Eddie’s kneeling in between Buck’s thick thighs for fuck sake, that alone is A LOT.

Helpless hunger had him push him on the bed, spreading him open for him in a sort of daze, because that’s what his body knows- but now it’s overwhelming, Buck softly panting, the clenching of his abs, the decadent way his veiny cock just- just fucking move against his lower belly… When Eddie looks at Buck’s face, he's got his arms crossed behind his head, pillowing it, grinning like the little shit he is, doing it all of it on purpose. Brazen. 

It’s daunting.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Eddie accuses him.

Buck shakes his head in the negative, opening his legs further in invitation. “You dying would be very, very counterproductive right now.”

“Just right now?”

“Okay, all the time.”

His mouth is dry from gaping like a fish outta water and he’s not quite sure where to begin, hands hovering on Buck’s muscular thighs, ready to fucking worship, but not knowing how to.

It’s crazy, Eddie isn’t a virgin, he fucking knows how to fuck and make someone feel real good but-

“That’s a-” _estúpido, you can’t even say cock out loud!_ he despairs at himself.

Buck chuckles, but still says, “If it’s too much we don’t-”

“ _We do!_ ” Eddie cuts, too loud and desperate. God he wants so much. “I just- I’ve gotten bad head before, Buck. Really terrible ones. It requires more skills than I can possibly have,” he disclose in a mumble, distress thick to his own ears, eyes glued to Buck’s elbow, because everything else is- so much fucking glowing skin.

He sees from the corner of his eyes how Buck tilts his head, before he shrugs, stretching lazily from toes to fingers, just so Eddie looks at him, hips shifting _up_ on the bed. Eddie can picture exactly his hands on Buck, the way he would just cant his ass a little bit higher, so he could just fuck him hard and give him a reason to stretched like a well fucked-

_Fuck._

Buck’s right leg curves around Eddie’s waist and he sits up the bed only using his abs, so he’s level eyed with Eddie. “So there might be a learning curve,” he admits, but the way he says it, Eddie can feel his dick get harder, “on both sides. But it’s going to be a fun one.”

His eyes are sparkling with mischief and lust.

His hand finds Eddie’s chest, and the other cards into his hair, tugging a little, and Eddie’s moaning for it, for him, because it’s clear that now he knows Eddie likes his hair played with and tugged, Buck’s gonna do it until Eddie buys a pair of handcuffs. 

Buck is staring at his hand in his hair, before biting his bottom lip, eyes flickering to Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie knows exactly what profanity is going to get out of that pretty red mouth of his, even before Buck has recovered from the porno in his head.

“Can’t wait to do that to you while you suck me off.”

Eddie’s hand shoots to the base of his dick, squeezing it shy of painful.

“ _Knew you would like that_ ,” Buck praises, panting against the side of his face, eyes downcast so he can stare at Eddie stopping himself from coming.

Eddie squeezes harder.

“And honestly,” Buck says, before stopping, mouth going to his neck, trailing fire on his skin.

“Hones- _tly_ what?” Eddie’s voice is too hoarse.

Buck’s engrossed in sucking love bites on his skin, exploring _every inch thoroughly._ “Hmm?”

“You said- please Evan, you're killing me,” he whines, needing more, so much more, hands finally digging into Buck’s sides, dragging him closer. “You said, _and honestly_ \- wha-what did-”

Buck giggles against his skin, the hand in Eddie’s hair tilting his head to the side so he can bite down, hard and possessive, at the skin right underneath his left ear. 

Eddie wails. There’s no other word for it, hips thrusting forward, searching friction and warmth.

Buck swears something foul under his breath that Eddie doesn't have any brain cells left to parse, before he gently soothes the bite with his tongue. When he leaves his neck, Eddie’s both relieved and needy for more and Buck must know, because the hand that was carding through his sweaty hair descends to his neck, thumb stroking the future bruise, dazed eyes surveying his work, looking satisfied.

_Proprietary._

And that, more than anything leaves Eddie’s breathless. He’s usually the possessive one in a relationship, the one with _Mine mine, back off_ singing in his veins. But Buck- Buck feels the same about him.

“Now they’ll know, all the women chasing you when we’re on calls,” he hisses, and Eddie thinks about that woman yesterday and Athena rescuing him. "And _honestly_ , why care about technique when a, we both know you have all the time in the world to practice giving head on your very willing, very hot boyfriend. And b, that I know for a fact that the second you wrap your mouth ‘round my dick, I’m going to come.”

_Fuck._

“Fuck.” Eddie breathes the word out, and his soul with it, closing his eyes because he’s going to come right here and now from that image alone, and Buck’s smugness isn’t helping.

“Now please, fuck me,” Buck says.

“Pushy brat.”

“So?”

“I like it. Like you. Love you,” Eddie peppers on his skin. “We need- lube. Condom.”

“Fuck yeah,” Buck flops back on he bed, moving his ass flush to Eddie’s dick. “But it’s your house man. _Don’t tell me one of us has to go out to buy that_.”

Eddie swears. It’s his house and his bedroom and his bed, and he really hopes the condoms he has in his drawer are still good and not past the expiration date. The lube he knows he has: he’s been using it A LOT while guiltily jacking off to images of Buck. And now he’ll use it on Buck.

Reluctantly, he disentangles himself from Buck -who whines- to fetch what they need and quickly looks at the expiry date on the condoms. Luckily they’re still good for another two months. It’s okay, they’ll all be used by then. 

When he’s back between Buck’s thick thighs, spreading them around him, his ass on the pillow that Buck put there to make this more comfy.

Eddie pauses a moment, looking at him, _starving for him._

“There’s that saying about a picture lasting longer,” Buck jokes and it makes Eddie swallow back a moan. “ _Oh_ , it’s like that, isn’t it?” Buck says seriously, gears in his head turning at full speed by the look of wonder on his face. “To be explored later,” he decides, pushing his ass up. “Please.”

“Uh,”

“Do you, fuck, do you need- directions?”

Eddie nods, not exactly knowing what to do beside lube up his fingers and sticking them in his ass -but that sounds both painful and too simple.

(He tried to watch gay porn, but it’s as ridiculous as straight porn and unrealistic, so he turned that off real quick)

“Yeah I’m not sure-” fuck. “I can’t do this without you gi-”

“ _You won’t have too_. Ever.” And it’s a promise he intends to keep going by the look of pure adoration he gives Eddie.

“Okay.” Eddie takes his hand to kiss it.

“Okay.”

Buck gently takes him by the wrist and brings his hand to his ass, squeezing it encouragingly.

“Wait lube,” Eddie says.

Buck shakes his head. “Just like this. You can just touch like this without going in.”

Eddie searches Buck’s face for hesitation or pain, heart in his throat, as he lets the tip of his index brush against the puckered skin between his cheek. But Buck only shudders, adam apple bobbing and ass pushing against Eddie like he can’t wait-

“Fuck-” Eddie closes his eyes and does it again and again and again, his other hand on Buck’s hip, forcing him to stay as still as he can, until Buck looks ready to cry at the sensation.

Eddie lubes one finger and approaches his entrance with enough time for Buck to say no if he needs… he just nods madly, and Eddie caresses his opening -the lube changes everything.

“You- can you?” Buck stammers, and he whines.

“You only have to ask.”

“Put it in,” Buck breathes urgently.

He does. _Fuck he does_. Just the pad, just more pressure at first, just to see Buck’s eyes flutter close, just to see the way he tries to fuck himself on that. Eddie goes deeper, slowly, reverently.

Buck makes a noise, something primal, something too loud when Eddie curls his index inside him. Both of them freeze, turning their head toward the door, the hall behind it, and Chris’ room two doors away.

Buck’s biting white indentations on his bottom lip.

Nothing happens beside Buck’s aborted hip trusts that he can't completely control.

“We’re good,” Eddie whispers in relief. “‘t’s fine.”

“I’ll sayyyy,” Buck drawls, trying for cheek, but he’s too fucked for it to work.

They stay like this for a few more minutes, Eddie looking at Buck, at his leaking dick leaving trails of precome on his abs, Buck fucking himself on that one finger, loose around it now.

“You wanna-”

But Buck’s already nodding, working his hips down harder.

“Another please, Eddie I need-

“I know what you need Buck, I’m gonna fill you up.”

And he does, because he’s never been so good at not giving Buck what he needs. Two fingers barely seems to satisfy Buck and he’s already begging for a third one.

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’m used to it- _ah._ ” Eddie must give him a look, because Buck elaborates. “I have- things at my place. To play with.”

The visual alone wrecks Eddie. Buck on his bed, fucking himself on a vibrator, calling out to Eddie in the dark.

“You’ll have to show me.”

“You can’t be- fuck, Eddie- you can’t be jealous of a dildo.”

“Can too,” and Eddie takes his two fingers out and three go in, Buck biting his forearm to contain the shout that is only muffled this way.

“Good?” he asks, not moving his fingers for a moment.

“So fucking good,” Buck breathes, languid. “Better if you move them.”

Eddie snorts and proceeds, not sure how much longer he can take before he comes by just fingering Buck and listening to him moan.

Either Buck knows or he’s feeling on the edge too, and he goes up to his elbows, shaky, and Eddie kisses his panting mouth. He needs to be closer. So much closer. 

“Please. I need- If you want-” _Fucking hell_ , Buck sounds broken.

“I want,” Eddie assures him. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to leave Bucks ass alone long enough to put a condom though. 

Buck knows. Of course, and before Eddie can think, Buck has one lazy hand on him, jacking him off for a few seconds, before he opens the condom and rolls it down Eddie’s dick, all the while Eddie’s still fucking him with his fingers.

Buck’s also the one that puts a hand on Eddie’s wrist and just like he brought his hand to his ass, he pushes him off, still whining at the loss.

“C’mon Eddie,” Buck says against his cheek before flopping back on the bed, readjusting his ass on the pillow. “Give it to me.”

Eddie cannot believe he’s attracted by this cocky little shit. But he is. So he lines up against Buck’s entrance. At least that’s familiar. One eye on Buck’s face to check on him -and how fucking gorgeous he looks right now- and one eye on what he’s doing.

He goes slowly, pushing in small, slow intervals, Buck nodding like mad, biting his bottom lip close to blood.

“C’mon, pleaase,” he manages to groan through gritted teeth.

But Eddie can’t bottom out just like that, or he’ll come, pressure and heat so intense fuck, and he doesn’t want that -at least not like that.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he’s sheathed balls deep and he needs a moment, pressure and heat so good, begging for him to come.

“Baby I need you to- to move okay?” Buck demands, moving his hips, only shallow cause Eddie’s still holding them. “ _Please._ ”

Eddie adjusts Buck’s sweaty thighs around him, pulls out to the tip, friction making them both swear and then he pushes right in without too much force or speed, but it’s a dire change still from his earlier pace. He does it again, and again, picking up speed and at some point he angles his hips a little differently, listening to Buck’s short breath and cut off moans, finding and hitting his prostate and going for a rhythm that finally, finally, seems to render Buck utterly speechless for once.

Buck takes hold of his dick but Eddie bats it away, jacking him off himself, fucking him deep. Buck manages to get upright again, making Eddie’s trusts shallower but the filthy kiss he gets in exchange is as good. His clumsy hand around Buck’s dick is trapped between them but he can still make it good-

Then Buck does something so fucking hot Eddie nearly blows right then and there. Because Buck switches them over, taking Eddie down and rolling them across the bed, coming on top, pushing down onto Eddie, praising, fucking himself on him for a moment, because Eddie’s too stunned and close to come.

He can only stares at him, until he snaps out of it, and pushes his hips up, Buck rolling his down and Eddie, _fuck,_ Eddie, it’s a miracle he held this long and Buck’s little “so fucking deep babyy,” are wrecking him, and gets him to spill, his orgasm shattering what's left of his brain. He rides the wave inside of Buck, moaning too loud, hand clenching too tight on his cock, but Buck only grunts and looks down at him with such adoration in his eyes Eddie cries out a little, his other hand digging into Buck’s thigh.

Buck’s still rolling his hips down, slowly, like he’s enjoying the last spams of Eddie’s spent dick inside of him.

When Eddie returns down to Earth, mortification takes hold of him. “Buck- I’m sorry- I didn’t-”

Buck shrugs, clearly happy with his present situation. He gingerly hops off Eddie’s dick, moaning at the loss and slots himself against him on the bed, both their skin so feverish and sweaty it should be gross but- it’s not.

Buck snorts, looking at Eddie still, “That was a sight, damn… And you still have your fingers. Believe me, it won’t take mu-”

Eddie’s on him before he can finish, kissing him for dear life, and yet to recover from his orgasm, still panting, still quaking from it. He rolls up the condom and carelessly throws it somewhere off the bed in one movement, before going to his knees and shuffling back between Buck’s trembling thighs, eyes going to his well fucked ass, red and glossy with lube. He’s back with three fingers in, Buck reduced too helpless whines, whispering praises and swears.

And then Eddie gives an experimental lick at his dick -Buck somehow manages to just bite his hand in time to catch a shout and Eddie grins, fingers in and out at that angle that drove Buck mad, that drags against his prostate. He takes the tip of Buck’s dick in his mouth, salty taste drowning his other senses for a second.

Just this, just Buck’s precome and the weight of his cock on his tongue, the stretch of Eddie’s lips around him-

Suddenly Buck’s tugging at his hair, and shit, Eddie needs to let the floof grow back, at least to get something for Buck to hold on to, because that so fucking hot, and by the fucked out grin Buck gives him, he fucking knows.

He wasn’t lying though, and Eddie barely has the time to begin his exploration of his dick, to follow the veins on its side with his tongue, pumping in and out of his ass and pressing down his prostate, that Buck comes right in his mouth with a muffled shout of “ _Eddie!_ ”

Eddie nearly chokes on him, at his load shooting at the back of his throat and he has no choice but swallow all he can, Buck’s breathless “oh my God, I’m so-” but cut by his own whining, the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

Against his abs, his dick’s still twitching a little, letting out a few drops on his happy trail.

And Eddie licks at them too, still recovering from his cough, eliciting a groan from Buck, and his wide hands are on his shoulders, under his armpits, forcing him up on him, both of them near boneless now, so they can kiss, Buck chasing himself on Eddie’s tongue.

Finally, Eddie flops half on him, half on the bed, dead.

“Hell of a learning curve, uh?” Buck says after a minute or ten, kissing his temple and snuggling closer, making a satisfied noise when Eddie puts his arms around his waist.

They’re both giggling and barely have the energy to clean up, but Eddie does it anyway, using a shirt and a bottle of water he keeps on his nightstand because neither of them can be bothered to get out of bed, and even less to the distant bathroom. Eddie doesn’t want Buck to be dirty or feel used - _never_ , but especially not after this. He wants Buck to be warm and cared for, preferably by him, needs him to know there’s nothing casual to them.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him when they're settling against each other cleaned and hydrated.

Buck yawns, snuggling close, “I love you too.”

After a few minutes in the dark and content silence, Buck asks, almost whispering, “How many goats am I worth Eddie?”

Eddie giggles hard, both of them rocking with it, too happy and sleepy to not be loud. “All the goats. I’ll go bankrupt when Bobby asks for payment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhere in LA, athena is cackling


	8. monday, morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. i had to cut the last chapter in two because it's not done, but i was feeling bad about not updating  
> ENJOY!!

Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s waking up. This feels too much like a dream, a silly little fantasy that lingers well after it should have died and left Eddie in pieces.

But it’s not.

For the first time in ages, someone is sprawled against him, over him, and his skin is on fire. Buck’s breath against his neck, Buck’s thigh over his legs, Buck’s arm around his waist. _Buck, Buck, Buck_ , drumming in his veins. Today, Eddie’s pretty sure there won’t be a sad jacking off session in his bed or shower, guiltily thinking of Buck, because he’s right there, a freaking octopus all over Eddie, and Eddie’s in love with him and has him and gets to keep him. 

He blinks at the ceiling, smiling like a loon, sure he’s going to wake up any moment now.

His world doesn’t shatter though, and when he looks at Buck, he’s still here, doesn’t dissolve into thin air. How long Eddie stays looking at him sleeping is a mystery, cataloging all the little faces and noises he makes, and the way he snuggles closer when Eddie tries to move his thigh because pins and needles are wrecking his legs.

He’s loath to wake him up, but they do have to at some point, simply because Eddie will die if he can’t take a leak in the next ten minutes, and because somewhere in the house, there’s an nine year old that needs to be fed and loved and sent to school.

Buck doesn’t seem to mind being woken up with kisses, a sleepy smile against Eddie’s mouth, before kissing him back around a yawn.

“Now that’s more like it,” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder like a lazy cat. “Could be better,” he adds, and yeah, there’s his dick against Eddie’s thigh, one hundred percent awake and begging for attention, and Buck’s hand leaves his side and slowly, agonizingly so, makes its way to Eddie’s dick.

Buck’s muffling a moan in his neck when the bedroom door opens-

At least Eddie fears, but it’s only the knob half turning, door remaining blissfully shut. He did lock it up last night.

Both he and Buck freeze, looking stupidly at each other, hands off each other faster than lighting.

A confused “Daddy?” comes from the other side of the door. Eddie never locks it after all. “Daaaaaaaad!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming mijo, just a minute-” he calls back, trying to put his head back in the game and not revolving around how naked and tousled and perfectly at home Buck looks in his bed, wrapped around him. A glance at his alarm clock gives him heartburn. How long was he looking at Buck sleeping? _Shit!_

“Did Bucky leave? He’s not in the guest room,” Chris asks, the petulance in his voice off the chart. 

Buck actually awes at that, melting at being missed. It’s true Buck doesn’t get to see this other side of the Diaz boys, constantly missing him and on the cusp of calling him theirs at any given moment, asking for him, and being extremely grumpy when he’s not there.

Problem is they did tell Chris Buck was sleeping over. And then they completely forgot about that, or that both of them in the same bed at 7 am might clue Chris into their relationship, with his habit of barging into his father’s bedroom or the guestroom if Buck’s in there like it’s his God appointed duty to make sure they don’t sleep in.

“Uh, no mijo, he’s-” his mind blanks. They really aren’t as smart as they think they are, Buck’s face mirroring his panic.

From the front of the house, Eddie hears the door open and close, and Carla lightly humming to herself. 

“ _Diaz boys!_ An hour until it’s time to leave for school,” she calls with her powerhouse of a voice that saved Eddie’s ass more than once from being late.

Twice a week she comes earlier to help Eddie plan the next few days, with all the appointments and the endless new forms he needs to fill to keep the government aids for Chris.

“CARLA!” Chris’ happy shout is precious and followed by the sound of his crutches down the hall.

Buck immediately giggles, doing his best to muffle it with his balled up shirt. “How- how are we doing this?” he asks, “No way Carla didn’t see my jeep in the driveway, I can’t just leave through the window!”

Eddie doesn’t want him to leave, can’t let him go really, and Buck’s looking at him like he holds all the answers, which isn’t exactly false since it’s his house, his son and his need to have some time before telling Chris.

“Uh-” _Very intelligent Diaz._

“Did- Did I fry your brain last night?” Buck giggles again, pure smugness and delight. He actually coos at Eddie, before he kisses him dirty and sweet at the same time. “Eddie, you’re so cute when you’re fucked out.”

“The way I remember it, you’re the one that could barely talk after,” Eddie mutters tastily, but kisses Buck back anyway, still blown away that all the nights he didn’t dare ask for miracles came to this.

There’s a knock on the door. “Eddie? You okay in there? Chris sounded worried.” _Shit!_ Just what they needed: a concerned Carla. “I saw Buck’s- Oh. O _oooooh_. Well, that explains the locked door. I’ll leave you to it then, but you know we’re on the clock here, and how much your boy loooove his Bucky, so if you could be so nice as sharing, someone could make pancakes while you and I schedules everything that has to be schedules. That would be great.”

His “Fuck!” and Buck’s “Shit!” are one and the same, loud enough for her to hear.

She laughs at them through the door, hard.

***

When they finally gather themselves -and their clothes- they exit the bedroom, make a quick pit stop in the bathroom, and go find Clara and Chris in the kitchen, both of them sitting at the isle. Clara has lots of folders piled neatly next to her and she took out ingredients from the cupboards for Buck to start on his pancakes immediately.

Eddie has the strong impression they’re being managed -and divided so she can conquer.

“Daddy! Buck!” 

They both get hugs from Chris and knowing smiles from Carla.

Chris is guileless when he asks, “Bucky where were you when I woke up?”

“Oh, uh… I was helping your dad with, uh, something in his room,” Buck says, because there’s only one bathroom and Chris probably used it as soon as he woke up.

Chris nods and then demands pancakes and there's that, because he’s a sharp kid, but luckily he’s still blind to adults… adulting.

Carla is another rodeo entirely and starts harassing him as soon as Buck takes Chris in his arms and sits him on the counter so he can help with the pancake batter.

“So Buck was… lending you a hand?” she asks not so innocently, eyes locked on the massive bruise he’s sporting underneath his ear, where Buck marked him last night to ward off others.

It had been so hot at the time -still is, if he’s being honest- but also a dead give away that someone claimed him as theirs. That Buck claimed him.

“Now tell me, how long has this been going on,” she orders good naturally as she hands him the first few application papers for him to review and sign.

He rolls his eyes. “ _Spanish inquisition much?_ ” And she’s only the first of many with a smug attitude and invasive questions.

“Oh boy, you have no idea-” she snorts. “Big buck at stakes on this one.”

“What.” Eddie heard that damn same sentence too many times in the past week.

Carla gives him a confused expression. “Wait. You really have no idea,” she whispers, eyes going wide in realization. “But they told me you were suspecting something.”

“I- _what_?”

“The bet. About you and Buck getting together last week,” she enunciates slowly.

Dots connect in Eddie’s head. And the picture they make has his blood pressure rising.

“That- that was what- they were betting about??” he splutters. “Buck?! Come here!”

“Uh…” Buck hands off the whisk to Christopher, kisses the top of his head and asks him to be careful on the counter and saunters to the isle. “What’s happening?”

Eddie can see the way he’s forcing himself to stay a step too far from him and it’s killing him, killing them both, but he gestures at Carla to explain.

“Oh boyyy- okay.” She nods to herself, awkward. “So a little wager took place- to guess which day you idiots would finally get your act together and smooch,” she says in a low tone, mindful of Chris.

Buck reacts as well as Eddie did. “ _Those motherfuckers!_ ”

On the counter, Chris stops mixing, eyebrows raised and smiling. “Bucky said a bad word.”

“Sorry Chris,” Buck tells him. To Carla he asks, “So let me get this straight, all our friends spent last week betting on us?”

“Yup. And I want to know precisely when this happened, and who won -apart from you I mean,” she says, winking heavily at them, before repeating, “Big bucks at stakes on this one.”

“You too?!” Buck asks, betrayed. He shakes his head when she nods in confirmation. “ _How much?_ ”.

“Must be like a few hundred dollars.” Eddie is _seething_. “Jesus they were putting their money in the box right in front of me!”

Buck whistles at that, either at the amount or the audacity. “Wait! You knew about this?”

“No!” Eddie shakes his head, stammering. “They just- and I assumed it wasn’t-”

“Yeah Babe you need to end those sentences,” Buck says fondly. _T_ he way he says _babe..._ It shouldn’t make Eddie shivers, but it does.

“It’s just- last Monday you got to the station so upset and everything and then Chim told me Abby was back I…” shit. _Shit shit shit_ , “assumed it was related to the bet. To you and her getting back together.”

Buck stares at him for a long minute. “That’s absurd. They all know I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now,” he answers, the assurance in his voice shaking him. When he’s not overthinking stuff, Buck and his love for him are a sure thing. It’s obvious. It’s been obvious. Eddie’s just a moron.

“You better- _wait_. That’s why you were such a pain on Tuesday. You- Oh my God Eddie, you thought the tattoo was for Abby. You beautiful idiot-”

“Hey! Maddie feared the same,” he objects.

“Y'all moron then,” he says as he shakes his head, before getting closer, just for a second, just long enough to say, “I love you.”

Eddie’s breath catches, because he knows he’s going to need to hear it everyday, and _he knows Buck’s going to tell him everyday_. “I love you too Evan Buckley,” he says back, “even if I’m a moron.”

He wants to take his face in his hand and kiss him, but Chris’ calls for Buck, bringing him back on earth. “I’m doing this right?” 

They turn toward him and he has flour everywhere in his hands and the front of his pjs shirt.

“Absolutely! You’re doing fantastic,” Buck lies with a thumb up.

Chris grins at them and continues “mixing” the flour and sugar like he’s beating it to death.

“So. We’re making someone a few hundred dollars. I feel like we’re entitled a cut,” Buck complains at Eddie and Carla.

Carla laughs, shaking her head, “Uh, think a _liiiiittle bit more_.”

Eddie frowns, “define more?”

“Weeeeeeell. We, hmmm, we have been betting on you first thing on Monday for the last, two years? More or less. Some weeks we don’t, or not all of us. I know your Captain and Athena put in a couple of dollars religiously every-”

Eddie cuts her, world rocking around him. “Wait wait wait hold up, what do you mean for the last two years?”

“I mean there were several pauses, don’t get me wrong,” Carla assures him, clearly talking about Shannon. “But it more or less began the week you started at the 118. Though I think it was more of a “ _will Buck realize he wants to bone the new guy and not punch him_ ” kinda deal between that hot Chimney guy and Hen at the time.”

Buck goes bright red, so much that Eddie worries he’ll need to use the fire extinguisher he keeps in the kitchen.

“And let’s be honest,” Carla continues, “I joined the betting pool the second Buckaroo introduced us. You both had that heart eyes thing going on. I thought you were real precious.”

“How. _Much?_ ” Buck asks through gritted teeth.

“Well, no one ever collected, so… I’d say five, perhaps six thousands?”

Buck throws his arms in the air and shakes his head, going back to Chris so he can break the eggs, pour the milk and starts the stove. “I’m against this,” he throws over his shoulder.

“Against what?” Chris asks, looking up at him, and then at Eddie.

“Tom Nook kind of people,” Buck says, making no sense but to Chris, who nods sagely. Buck points at Carla with the whisk. “This is highway robbery! You’re breaking my heart Carla!”

“Wait until you hear how much your sister has been betting,” she huffs, waving him off.

“WHAT?!” he shouts, before shaking his head. “You know what, not gonna ask. Chris, you ready with the milk?”

“Yup!”

Carla smiles at them, but she still slaps Eddie’s shoulder with a thin folder, back on him quickly. “So, _which day_?”

Eddie already knows who won, and he can already hear Athena cackling her way through every dinner party for the next ten years over this.

With extreme reluctance, he throws “Sunday,” at her.

“Damn it, you couldn’t get your act together on Thursday, could you?” Carla shakes her head. “Sergeant Grant is going to be delighted.”

Insufferable _, rather._

“Not the take I thought you would have about me and Buck getting together,” he accuses.

She laughs. “Ooh, honey, I’m ecstatic you boys finally opened your eyes, trust me.”

“Got a weird way of showing it,” he mutters, folding his arms in front of him, immediately unfolding them because he knows he makes him look defensive and nervous and he picks up a pen to play with. 

Buck reappears at his side, closer this time. Better. “You guys are evil! Couldn’t you just... Say something? I was dying!”

“Buckaroo, we’ve been saying things I assure you,” Carla says, putting her one hand on his shoulder as she fondly adds, “You boys are just real thick headed.”

Buck turns to Eddie fully. “Everyone is going to be insufferable. You okay? I know we talked about telling Bobby, but the rest-”

“We don’t have to tell them,” Eddie says, cold determination running through him.

“What?”

“We don’t have to give them the satisfaction. We can lie, and take the money-” he throws a calculating glance at Carla, before pointing the pen at her. “You will get a cut.”

“A heist?” Buck asks, confused. “You know I’m not real good with heists.”

Carla snorts. “Also you left a massive hickey under your boo’s left ear.”

Buck looks both smug and sheepish, his eyes zeroing on the bruise, and Eddie can feel the weight of his eyes, the ghost shape of his mouth on him. Buck’s hand actually twitches against his leg and makes a fist. He probably wants to touch and kiss his handiwork as much as Eddie wants him to.

“I’ll say I hooked up with someone,” Eddie counters, leaving a bad taste in his mouth and making Buck frown in jealousy. “ Calm down, I'm yours,” he reassures, hand squeezing his innocently enough.

Buck blushes so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t pass out from it. Eddie wants to kiss him so badly, and Buck knows this, wants clear in his eyes, and wisely decides to go check on Chris and the hazardous mixing he’s still doing on the counter.

“Not sure I approve…” Carla says, but Eddie can see she’s tempted just for the chaotic energy of it all.

“You had it right you know? _Thursday_. I asked him to marry him that day,” he reveals, reallyyy interested in the pen in his hands, because it’s one thing to blurt it out to Buck, it’s another to say it out loud to someone else.

But he did ask. No kidding, no joke. He’ll do it again one day, when he’s better at this, steadier in his own two boots, and he’s confident he’s ready.

Carla looks at him for a moment, clearly assessing him. “Good. He asked you to marry you the day he introduced us together, but it’s good you finally caught up boo... Fiiiiine, whatever, I’m sold. Now sign all those things applications, we still have to post them and get Chris to school, not all of us can return to bed with their lovers until noon once their kid is packed to school,” she snarks.

It’s Eddie’s turn to blush, because it’s been pulsating at the back of his head that he’ll soon have Buck for himself. _Fuck_ , their shift only starts at two. He and Buck will probably still be comedrunk by the time they get to the station.

“My boy has you so whipped. _Good_. Just-” there she hesitates and lowers her voice again, not for Chris’ ears, but Buck’s, “don’t leave him in the dust, okay? That boy deserves someone that will stay.”

Eddie nods, solemn, eyes drifting to where Buck’s holding the mixing bowl for Chris to go crazy whisking the pancake batter, both giggling like mad. “Not going anywhere.”

“Good. Perfect. Now let’s discuss my cut lover boy, and how you’re going to con all your friends.”

***

Once Carla and Chris are off to school, it’s the first time in a while that Eddie and Buck are truly alone without teammates, family and son to hear or see too much.

Buck’s busy washing the dishes when Eddie comes back from the porch to hug Chris goodbye for the third time after Carla said “we’re off, then. Bye boys!” (Eddie’s never been good at letting Chris go. He did that too much before).

He’s still wearing Eddie’s clothes, and it strucks Eddie dumb: Buck has been here since Friday afternoon without so much as a single visit to his own place to get some peace or new clothes. Which means he will have to pop by his loft at least to change out of his pjs or be stuck with the clothes he’s been wearing since Chris’s birthday party on Friday.

(It also means Buck is here since Friday afternoon, _where he belongs_ , like he always should be and that gives Eddie a high he’s nowhere close to come down of)

“Hey gimme all your clothes, I’m gonna do laundry or you’ll be stuck going to work in your pjs,” he announces, the prospect of Buck leaving earlier than he could filling him with more dread than doing a load of laundry on his free Monday morning.

Buck looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “You sure?”

“Yup,” he pops the word, going to stand behind him so he can kiss the back of his neck where his hair is curling wildly, just like he’s been craving to since the first time he found Buck in his kitchen one morning months and months ago, hands going around his chest just so he can hold him, breath him in.

_Fucking hell this is allowed now._

Buck pushes his ass against him, brazen and laughing. Eddie has to slide his hands down to his hips -to stop him of course.

“Didn’t you say last night you wanted to fuck me?” he says slowly to Buck’s ear; tongue darting to the soft, sensitive skin below it.

Buck groans, head falling on Eddie’s shoulder, but he’s grinning. “Yeah, well. Getting fucked by you was a _revelation_ , so I’m gonna ask for it until you’re sick of me.”

“Not gonna happen, _Evan_ ,” Eddie assures him, kissing his cheek, because it won’t. “But that’s pretty selfish of you.”

“Don’t care,” Buck says, unrepentant, grinding his ass against Eddie’s erection.

“Well you will have to wait, laundry is important,” he says. Buck has always managed to bring the little shit Eddie is underneath all the veneer of forbidding eyebrows and professionalism.

He leaves Buck’s warmth, adjusts himself in his basketball shorts and decides he should also strip the bed, because it’s probably spotted with lube and come.

“Oh yeah,” Buck mocks, putting the last plate on the rack and drying his hands on a dish rag, “ _laundry is essential_.”

And it takes him less than five seconds to be, well, buck naked, shirt and pjs bottom pilling on the floor between them. His smug, challenging smile is firmly in place and he leans against the counter, _parting his legs just so_ , before he starts lazily jacking himself off.

“Asshole,” is the only thing Eddie can articulate before he groans and boxes Buck on the counter, batting his hand away so _he_ can take over and make Buck go as crazy as he gets him. Pots and plates rattle when the rack is pushed out of the way to give Buck more room to sit, but Eddie doesn’t care.

The kisses between them are filthy, Buck egging on Eddie about the importance of laundry in between nips of his teeth at Eddie’s bottom lip, and Eddie… well Eddie lets his hips do the talking and doesn’t censure the way they spell out his need to fuck into Buck, and now.

Buck mutters something about Eddie’s dick, how much he wants to be pounded again, to be ruined -and that right there is Buck using Eddie’s possessiveness against him, to get what he wants like the brat he is.

And Eddie would give him anything, _anything,_ but he’s a little shit too. So he detaches himself from Buck’s naked body once again, gives his dick a last pump with a twist at the head and quickly gathers Buck’s clothes on the floor. He ignores the wail of despair that follows him as he rounds the house searching for dirty clothes, laundry basket on his hip and a naked, frustrated Buck on his steps.

(Eddie can see himself do that a few years down the road, Buck as indignant as now)

He manages to ignore Buck long enough to load and start the washing machine, with all the difficulties in the world and restrain he didn’t know he had. The army was good for something after all.

The second he gets up from crouching in front of the washing machine, Buck’s on him, _still naked, gorgeous and ravenous_.

“You have another core to torture me with?” he groans in Eddie’s hair, hands pushing his shirt to his armpits.

“You just looked at me while jacking off,” Eddie says in his neck, peppering kisses there, and squeezing his ass. “I wouldn’t say it was too tiring for you.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind when you were being all househusband extraordinaire,” Buck says obnoxiously, blue eyes sparkling.

“Oh? About?”

Buck’s grin is predatory. “I’m gonna take you to bed and fuck you so hard you’ll understand why I was begging for it.”

The confidence in his tone makes Eddie weak at the knee and he would have stumbled if it wasn’t for Buck holding him up. It’s good, so fucking good, when Buck manhandles him against a wall and nudges his legs open with his knee, hands going to his thighs, encouraging him to put them around his hips.

Buck’s wall of bricks, and manages to hold Eddie against the wall as he wraps his second leg around him, despite Eddie’s doubts he could lift him cause Eddie’s no weak stick either.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie breaths between kisses.

He slammed and fucked enough women against walls, doors, alleyways… but if anyone had told him a few years ago he would be the one held like that, or that he would be close to blow in his shorts over it, he would have laughed.

And Buck- _fuck_ , Buck fucking knows what’s it’s doing to Eddie, the way he’s grinning into their kisses, using those two inches he has on him to escape Eddie’s mouth long enough to look down at him, smug and hungry. He pushes down the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, tucking it right under his balls.

“But before I fuck you,” he says this with evident glee, especially when Eddie just moans his enthusiasm, “I think I owe you a little payback for the kitchen and making me wait.”

Eddie finds himself nodding along with him, wanting nothing more in that moment than Buck’s brand of payback.

It involves Buck rutting against him slowly, both their dicks weeping between them, Eddie begging for more, friction, hand, whatever, just more. His forehead butts into Buck’s, noses nearly smashing together and the way they kiss, _fuck_ , close to devouring each other… This is the kind of torture Eddie can get behind, especially after all those months with only his hand and his guilty imagination.

As delicious as this is, Buck doesn’t have as much restraint or patience as Eddie and soon, they’re frog marching each other to the bedroom, incapable of letting go of each other, always touching, always kissing, Buck throwing Eddie’s shirt and shorts like they have personally offend him and they’re both laughing when Eddie coos at him, “shhh, it’s okay Evan, the evil clothes can’t hurt you know, I’m naked.”

“Fucking finally!”

Buck takes his sweet time prepping him, far longer than Eddie did with him last night and when Eddie asks, Buck kisses his inner thigh sweetly.

“I’ve done it before Babe, to myself I mean. So I know what I can take,” he squeezes Eddie’s dick playfully, “And what is enough stretching. You, on the other hand-”

And he doesn’t have to finish. Eddie did explore, sometimes under the shower, fingertips and light pressure, but not much.

“It’s okay,” Buck reassures him, “remember about the learning curve?”

Eddie nods. No shame. _Just them_.

Truth is Eddie knew it had to be good or people wouldn’t do it, but he was also kinda scared of the pain, and before that, the implication. In the last few months, he’s been trying to get himself in a place where he’s comfortable enough to actually try it, but it was slow going, and he really didn’t want to have to call 911 because whatever toy he used was stuck up his ass. Every time he thought about it, he could hear Maddie saying “ _911 what’s your emergency?_ ” or picture clear as day Chim and Hen’s reactions if they ended up being the paramedics sent to his house.

_No thank you._

“Okay.”

Buck’s fingers are long and gentle on him, _in him_ , and once Eddie is literally fucking himself on them, Buck chuckles, praising him under his breath and begins to explore more, searching for his prostate no doubt. The second Eddie shouts his way through the first press to it, Buck’s eyes are locked on him. Even as he kisses Eddie’s inner thigh in encouragement,his eyes are still on his fingers and the way Eddie’s clenching around them -around Buck.

Eddie has been abandoned by English all together and is now begging in curses and moans and grunts, hips shoving down, begging too, so glad he can be as loud as he needs, as loud as Buck is making him feel.

Buck isn’t collected either, and his fingers are less cautious and more demanding after a while, pumping in and out, tight expression on his face, biting his bottom lip, just like he was last night when Eddie was fucking him.

Finally, Eddie can’t take anymore of this and tells Buck that if he wants to pound him like that, he should replace his fingers with his dick like God intended.

(Eddie’s so going to Hell. Whatever)

“ _That sounded so fucking hot Eds,_ but you have to repeat that in English please, because that was just gibberish.” And Buck sounds so wrecks, so damn ready-

Eddie does, mouth dry and heart pounding, his panted words leaving Buck gaping.

“ _Fuck_ , okay okay okay, fucking hell,” Buck pants, reluctantly taking his fingers out, thumb affectionately caressing his hole one last time, making Eddie shiver in anticipation, before stretching off the bed to grab at Eddie’s shirt to clean his hand. “You’re doing so good, Eds, and I’m gonna make you feel so good, promise.”

“I know.”

Then Buck is manhandling him again, pushing a pillow under his ass like Buck did to himself last night, wrapping Eddie’s legs around his waist- he puts on the condom on quickly, and says, “you ready?”

“Fuck yes,” Eddie breathes, because their isn’t much left in him, and he _needs_.

And it’s the same excruciating pace as last night, the other side of it anyway, Buck pushing in him so freaking slow. But Eddie needs the slow pace, because the pressure is wrecking him, and he wants more but _Jesus fucking Christ,_ it feels like being splitted open. He doesn’t know how to relax or how to breathe it seems and at some point Buck pulls out entirely and just soothes his big hands on his thighs, kissing him, praising him. It’s a good thing, because with Buck’s words of care and patience, Eddie doesn’t cry in frustration like he felt close to when Buck first pulled out.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, Babe.”

Eddie nods, not quite convinced. He feels useless, can’t even get fucked right. “I want to-”

“I know, I know. You think you can get fingered again?”

But Eddie is already pushing on his hand, needing the contact and the fullness. Needing to prove Buck he can do it.

Buck smiles at him and works on him again, from the top. Caressing his hole. Tip of a finger. One finger. Two. Three. _Four_. His other hand loosely jacking him off.

His cock is leaking all over Buck’s hand, and he’s back on fucking himself on Buck’s fingers quick enough, because the man knows his way around a prostate, and his reassuring smiles are melting Eddie’s worries and inadequacy hang ups.

This time Buck looks at him straight in the eyes, never looking away and Eddie can’t, the little “ _breath with me_ ,” from Buck like a lighthouse in an overwhelming sea. It takes a while, but when Buck bottoms out and stays there, Eddie’s so full and and blissed out he nearly misses Buck’s evident struggle at not coming from this alone, his pretty eyes closed in concentration against the same forces Eddie had to struggle last night. 

Eddie’s on fire, stretched out and sweaty and ready to burst. He can only recall the pressure of Buck clenching around him, and how much credit goes now to the other man to hold himself from coming with the vice grip Eddie’s ass must have on his dick.

Experimentally, Eddie moves his hips and _actively_ clenches- Buck’s grunts are freaking better than LSD high and he feels… so. Fucking. Full.

_Absolutely, worldviews shatteringly full._

When he giggles he sounds mad to his own ears and Buck seems worried, face still pinched with restraint, so Eddie just rolls his hips. Buck immediately responds to it with a careful trust, but Eddie now is so wonderfully stretched and full and perhaps a little sex drunk and he’s done with careful. He shakes his head, pushing against Buck with force and everything lights up inside of him like fireworks.

Buck can barely ask, “You- sure” around a moan and Eddie nods, frantic.

It’s gone after that, neither of them careful or restrained, Buck slamming into him with abandon that Eddie’s hungry for. He’s begging for more and harder, and his ass is gonna be so fucking sore, but he doesn’t give a shit.

At some point, Buck falls on him, his arms giving out, trusting into him like there’s no tomorrow, whining in his neck -and biting at it again, at the bruise he already left there last night.

Eddie’s hands are roaming his sweaty back, nails probably leaving red trails of fire in their wake, but he needs closer, fuck, and he digs his heels in Buck’s back, bringing him closer closer closer, so much closer and deeper.

When he comes, the world explodes, and he whites out, orgasm slamming into him like a freight train, like- fuck, _like Buck_ and he shouts his name, ass clenching around him, dragging him with him, Buck’s silent scream lost against his neck, still trusting in him, chasing his pleasure until neither can, until Eddie so sensitive he’s hissing, until Buck’s soft and slips out.

It takes them ages to recover, glued together by sweat and come and Eddie getting suffocated by too many feet and pounds of muscles, but fuck. What a way to go.

Buck rolls to his side, still panting, still half on Eddie, just like in the position they woke up this morning. Suddenly he’s giggling like mad, shaking them both with the force of it. “See what I mean ‘bout revelation?”

“Fuck you,” Eddie throws back, eyes half closed, actually struggling to keep them opened, concentrating on the ache in his ass that he finds he likes, his entire body floating in endorphin. “ _Fuck you so hard_.”

“That’s a promise?”

“Urgh I hate you.”

Buck huffs, hand pinching his side. “That’s such a lie.”

“It is.”


	9. monday, afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah  
> it's done

They kiss at the door.

They kiss against Buck’s jeep.

They kiss through the opened window.

It’s a mix of knowing they won’t be able to kiss for a while, and just them being so damn fucking horny now that this is allowed, _that this is real_.

It’s a miracle they don’t pull over to kiss some more on their way to work -in different cars, because they need to fool their friends and rob them blind. Eddie’s right behind Buck the whole time (concentrating way too much on the glimpses of him he has from time to time), but pulls over to the drive through five minutes away from the station so they don’t arrive at the same time.

(They could be kissing in the parking lot before clocking in if they hadn't decided on conning the squad. Now _this_ is highway robbery)

While he waits for his turn, his fingers go to the massive bruise under his ear, nails dragging a little over it, just so he can feel Buck’s touch once his jeep is out of sight. How he’s supposed to go through a whole shift pretending he’s not Buck’s and Buck isn’t is, Eddie has no clue. Because _Buck is his_ , and his stomach makes a delighted jump at that, all aflutter and shit and when he checks himself in the rear view mirror, he’s got that almost painful grin on his face, absolutely glowing.

The squad is going to take one look at him and know for sure.

He’s getting addicted to the feeling- completion, happiness, love, whatever. Buck is his, and he’s Buck. Miracles are a thing now, apparently, and perhaps Eddie should go buy a lottery ticket or try walking on water.

“Sir, can I please take your order?”

_Shit!_

By the tone of her voice, the waitress at the window has been asking more than once and Eddie apologizes profusely, taking the most basic coffee order -still drowned in sugar. When he pays, he leaves a few more bills on top of the tip and drives off, blushing hard.

***

Neither the rigs or the ambulances are there when he enters the station, and the team they’re here to replace is still stuck at a scene. Bobby’s walking a trench on the cement floor where the ladder truck should be parked, listening to the radio for live updates about the more than probable microwave fire currently taking out half a dorm on the UCLA campus. He barely acknowledges Eddie as he waves at him, probably thinking about the microwave fire they nearly had last week with those idiot kids.

In the locker room, Buck has already changed, and no Eddie isn’t disappointed by that. _Nope_. He’s all perfectly proper and professional, just sitting on one of the benches, biceps exposed by his short sleeved shirt, long legs outstretched. Eddie stops at the threshold, groaning internally. He stops because now he knows how debauched Evan Buckley is under that shirt and the red lines hidden underneath, that Eddie left just this morning on his back; he knows the shape of his smile when he’s asking for it, when he’s begging for it.

(He can _hear_ Buck’s lewd suggestion to burrow their uniforms and fuck in them. _Best shower though I ever had_ , he assured Eddie this morning)

They look at each other. Buck bites his lip, clearly knowing where Eddie’s brain went and- Eddie wants to kiss him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop. Kiss him stupid and continue until he’s stupid too.

To be fair, he always wanted to kiss Buck, but now that he has spent the better part of yesterday and this morning doing it, it’s hard to stop when he has a taste for it, when he knows the shape of Buck’s smile against his lips, or the way he can turn any innocent peck into the filthiest of kisses. It’s good practice though. They’re at work, and they wouldn’t be kissing each other anyway even if people knew.

_Good practice can go fuck itself._

“Good afternoon, Buck,” he ends up saying, rolling his eyes at himself and at his brilliant ideas, forcing himself to actually enter the locker room and open his locker.

Buck smiles and it’s a little dopey, a little too sweet for best friends to be smiling like that at each other. How could Eddie think Buck didn’t feel the same? He has seen that same look, directed at him enough times. They really are morons.

“Good afternoon… _Babe_.”

Eddie smiles back, before he remembers what they have to do today and whispershouts, “ _BUCK!_ ”

Of course, being the brat he is, Buck actually pouts. “Fiiiiine, I’ll stop sabotaging the heist, but I expect something good in return,” he winks, blue eyes roaming up and down Eddie’s body.

“You’re a nightmare.”

Buck laughs at that, hands crossing behind his head, muscled arms in full display and knowing fully well what he looks like, _what it does to Eddie_. “Dressed like a daydream?” he teases.

And how does he manage to be so darn cute and wanton at the same time, Eddie has no clue.

“Don’t.”

Buck sighs like the world is ending and somehow musters enough will to break eye contact before either of them catch fire. He gets his phone out and a second later, Chim enters the locker room, spring in his step.

“And good day to you boyys,” he says, dropping his bag on a bench and opening his locker. “How was the very short Sunday?”

Buck puts his phone down and immediately launches into recounting the impromptu barbecue with the Diazs, Eddie smiling at his enthusiasm. Everyone saw Eddie inviting Buck yesterday and by now, Bobby and Athena must have told everyone about the facetime calls. Surprisingly, Buck is a smooth liar, inventing another ending to his Sunday, meeting an old SEAL training buddy for a few drinks.

Between them, Chim doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment when he hears that part. It soothes some of Eddie’s anger against his friend and the whole betting affair. Chim seems genuinely unhappy, despite betting on last Friday and therefore having nothing to win with them getting together on Sunday. Meaning he wants them happy, bet or no bet. 

“What did you do Chim? Quiet evening with Maddie?” Eddie asks as he takes off his shoes and that’s when he realises that his damn socks are mismatched. 

A quick glances at Buck’s feet confirms that mistakes were made, and that making out while dressing up after their shower was as great as it was dumb. Buck notices too and curls his long, long legs under the bench, face a tad too pink.

Chim is blissfully ignorant of the big clue right under his nose, still happily describing his Sunday with Maddie, “-going to the beach, then that korean restaurant that just opened near her place.” Chim sighs, big smile on his face, before he adds, pushing one pointy elbow in Eddie’s ribs, “You guys should come with us next time.”

On the bench, Buck nods absently, but he’s absorbed by something on his phone again. A second later, Eddie feels the telltale buzzing in his back pocket. He ignores it, putting on his dress shirt, working the tiny buttons one by one.

“And you? What did you do when Buckaroo left? _I mean beside brood_ ,” Chim snickers, and _fucking hell_ , Carla was right. With statements like that, how did they miss it? Chim just announced Eddie broods when Buck’s not around, right in front of him.

Buck, who’s still on his phone, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. Again, there’s a new buzzing in Eddie’s pocket that makes him shiver.

Chim is looking at him expectantly, and shit, he asked him something, so Eddie turns around just enough for the massive hickey on the other side of his neck to be visible to Chim.

“I packed Chris to Peppa and decided to take a leaf out of the Buck 1.0 handbook. Ended up being mauled by some very enthusiastic chick outside a bar and went back to her place,” he says good naturally with a generous helping of smugness drizzled on his tone. The entire lie is powered by sheer force of will and spite, ‘cause fucking around with the squad is going to be grand after last week pit of despair.

Beside Chim, Buck’s scowling so hard just thinking about the non-existent chick Eddie wants to laugh at his jealous face (to think he called Eddie possessive!)

But Chim- _fuck_ , Chim looks devastated for a moment, before imperfectly smoothing it to a “Eh, congratulations, man. Go-Good for you.”

“ _Really_ good for me,” Eddie digs harder, mind on _Buck, Buck, Buck,_ heart hammering in his chest, but feet on solid ground.

He turns his attention to his pants, feigning a problem with his belt and watches Chim gently pats Buck on the shoulder from the corner of his eye.

_Uh._

Before letting his jeans pool around his ankles, he takes out his phone and nearly collapses when he opens his text conversation with Buck.

**> >> told ya pictures last longer ;)**

One picture was definitely taken this morning after they showered, because it’s Eddie’s bathroom and Buck’s hair is still a mess of wet wild curls, still looking as come drunk as he was after they got off in the shower. He’s only wearing a towel real low on his hips and has that little shit smile that Eddie wants to kiss and fuck until it’s _slack_.

The second must have been taken in the five-ten minutes Buck was changing before Eddie got here. He has his short sleeved dress shirt opened on his chest, his pants are undone, leather belt hanging from the loops, framing a pair of boxers that more than certainly belongs to Eddie. To add insult to injury, Buck has surrounded himself by little cartoon flames and kissing face emoji like some kind of instagram porn star.

 _Fucking hell,_ he’s such a colossal tease. Eddie must make a noise because both Buck and Chim are looking at him, one with faked guilelessness, the other in concern.

“Are you having a stroke?” Chim demands, looking him over for signs of distress.

“N-No,” _Jeez_ , he near chokes on the word. Eddie swallows back lust and says darkly, “I just realized I might get fired today.”

“What? _Why?_ What did you do?” Chim demands.

Behind him, Buck is licking his bottom lip.

“ _Nothing yet,_ ” Eddie warns, quickly gathering his jeans and putting on his uniform pants. “Are you going to change before the end of our shift?” he asks as a distraction for Chim, who has been so busy with asking questions he's still in civies. 

“Shit!”

***

Word repends quickly around the firehouse about Eddie’s fake hook up. Some people give him high fives, others glare at him -on Buck’s behalf, it’s all really sweet, Eddie thinks, even if his feeling the cold

When Bobby catches on the latest gossip, he falls strongly into the second category, his disappointment and anger heavy against the back of Eddie’s head. He goes as far as to pair them with other people during the two calls they have to respond to once the rigs and ambulances are back at the station, probably trying to spare Buck’s feelings, but ending up annoying the both of them. It’s clear that his overprotective _Captain dad_ mode has been activated.

People flock to Hen through the first few hours of their shift, muttering among themselves, but Eddie doesn’t see any money exchanging hands or the box they’re meant to steal. The entire squad checks on Buck one way or another, smothering him with their attention and concern. He’s really good at playing it all tight smiles and dimed eyes, but the second they have a minute alone, Buck’s practically vibrating with glee.

“This is the best!” he whispers when they’re restocking the ladder truck after a call. Bobby gave them different jobs, but since they’re taking their time, they ended up the last people around the rigs as the rest have mingled upstairs. “I just sigh and everyone keeps patting me on the shoulder. And Bobby’s making tikka masala chicken to cheer me up tonight!” he says, patting his stomach like he already had second and third. Then his eyes zeros on Eddies and he wiggles his eyebrows, smirking. “Lucky no one saw my back, though. You went at it like a naughty kitten.”

Eddie lets his head fall against the cool metal of the firetruck. He did leave some pretty intense red lines on Buck’s back this morning. “Do not. Call me. _A Kitten_ ,” Eddie answers in the same low voice, looking around just to be sure no one’s around. He feels like he should shout this. 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Fine, you’re a naughty goat then. But! I’m good at heist!”

“What you’re good at is driving me crazy,” Eddie complains. Buck is too good at pretending he’s sad. “I feel like I should be hugging you with the faces you make or-” he stops, shaking his head like it can dislodge the blush spreading on his cheek.

“ _Or?_ ” and Buck fucking knows. He fucking knows and he’s milking it because he’s a brat and Eddie loves him so much it’s almost debilitating.

Eddie sighs, knocking his head against the truck again. “Something not work appropriate. I near popped a boner right next to Chim! Do not -Evan I’m serious- do not get me fired!”

“Spoilsport,” Buck says very slowly. And the way he’s leaning against the truck like some kind of model, staring at Eddie’s mouth with this lip biting, eyes sparkling routine? _It should be fucking illegal._

Eddie shakes his head, fighting a smile. Asking Buck to behave and not act like a little shit is like trying to douse a fire using gasoline.

“Did you see the betting box?” he asks to distract them both -just talking about the thirst pics is getting him all worked up again, especially with Buck looking _like that_ not three feet away from him.

“Nope. I’m guessing Hen keeps it in the women locker room,” Buck says, before he shivers dramatically, “and I’m not going in there with everyone around, I love being alive waaay too much.”

“Same. What do we do?”

They look at each other, completely clueless.

“Wait…” Buck begins, nodding along the gear in his head. “You trust me?”

Eddie scoffs, _what kind of question is that?_

“‘kay, _love you_ ,” he says in a rush, before banging his fist on the side of the truck, surprised by his own force by the pained face he pulls and startling Eddie. “FUCK YOU EDDIE!” Buck shouts.

People yelp in surprise from the loft. Within seconds, Eddie can see their squad mates popping up over the railing to watch them from the corner of his eye.

“Is it so hard to drill into your skull I don’t want to hear about how hot that chick was?!” Buck continues.

Eddie stays stunned for a few more seconds before his brain turns into gears. “Sorry for being happy for once I guess!” he throws back feeling foolish but still committing to it, pointing his index right to Buck’s face, “ _Not my fault you’re single!_ ”

Buck’s eyes are reduced to slits, but from up close, Eddie can see his dimples and the way he’s barely fighting a smile.

“ _Pretty sure it is!_ ” Then Buck gives a performance worthy of Abuela’s favorite telenovelas and acts like he said too much, before shouldering his way past Eddie at light speed, running up the stairs and disappearing into the loft.

Everyone goes after him, but not before shaking their heads in disappointment at Eddie, who now has at least a few minutes to go through the women locker room without any witnesses or getting killed for being a pervert.

***

The box is disgustingly easy to find under a pile of clean towels, and not even padlocked -that is actually a credit to how trusting everyone is, but also an insult to him and Buck, because _obviously,_ no one figured they would take revenge for the whole betting thing.

Eddie quickly runs out of the locker room, through the garage and across the parking lot to get to his truck so he can hide the box under his spare tire. He giggles to himself, patting his truck, and tries real hard to recompose himself. When he has an iron grip on the side burning laugh that wants to bubble out of his chest, he gets back to the rigs and pretends to still be doing inventory.

(He still laughs internally when Bobby gives him the smallest serving possible of tikka masala when dinner times comes around)

***

He doesn’t giggle long. 

There’s a fire; followed by two medical emergencies (one actually turning into a car crash before they can get there); an asshole that swallowed his ex-girlfriend’s new girlfriend’s engagement ring; and, late during the night, another fire a burglar set to cover his tracks when he was caught by the house owner.

It’s exhausting and through all of it, Bobby keeps him and Buck at bay and Eddie's so out of rhythm, he feels just fresh in the academy, utterly useless and incompetent and there’s more than one time Cap screams his name in a tone that spells _WHAT THE FUCK YOU DOING?!_

Conning the squad is not so fun anymore, especially when Eddie’s stuck outside the blazing house, and Buck’s still inside with someone else watching his back.

“Buckley, Peterson? _Do you copy?_ I want you two outside now, over,” Bobby repeats for the second time.

Eddie’s pacing, half mad with worry and the overwhelming heat, but he knows if he so much as takes a single step toward the burning house, at least five different people will tackle him down to the road to stop him.

He closes his burning eyes when, like the first time, Bobby’s evac order doesn’t receive an answer. 

Eddie begins to hyperventilate, ‘cause he just got Buck, so to lose him like that, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t and he takes stock of who’s around him, trying to find a way to outrun them and get into that damn house, and _that’s when_ Buck storms outside, surrounded by flames and smoke, Peterson on his back.

Buck stumbles on the front lawn, the squad’s shouts drowning Eddie’s scream of relief, calling Buck’s name until his throat gives out. Buck puts the other firefighter on the grass and falls on his ass, waving Hen and Chim to concentrate on Peterson with the other paramedics.

Eddie jogs to him and doesn't get waved off - _wouldn’t let himself be_ ; He tugs Buck’s up and away to leave the paramedics work and brings him as far away from the heat as possible, sitting him on the opposite curb. They’re both out of breath, Buck by physical exertion, Eddie by pure relief. He collapses in between his legs, taking his mask and his helmet off with shaky hands, helping him with his sweaty balaclava next and finally pushing his turnout coat from his shoulders.

 _First in, last out._ Eddie knows this. Lives this. It’s as true for him as for Buck but shit- It just takes one bad call, tripping in the smoke, one floor collapsing or smoke too thick to find the way out before Buck is fried to the bone and _dead_ and lost to Eddie. “You okay? Are you burn- are-”

“Eddie, I’m fine! _I’m fine!_ ” Buck reassures, gripping his hands, forehead falling on his shoulder, nosing his neck. “Peterson took a fall on the way down and my radio,” he blindly slaps the half burnt thing on his turn out coat, muttering the rest, “really we haveta make them more resistant.”

“Fuck you're right. I-I thought that I'd lost you, Evan," Eddie stammers in his neck.

Buck lifts his head, tired smile on his sooty face and eyes too knowing. “I understood enough of that to know I should be kissing you right now.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie swallows hard, heart in his throat. “You should always be kissing me anywa-”

“BUCKLEY! DIAZ!” Bobby’s booming voice over the roaring fire and the sirens separates them from the other side of the street. “If he’s alright he can hold a hose and help the rest of us drown that fire!”

And oh, this is going to suck. This is going to make things so complicated, so painful. Because Eddie always loved Buck, even when he wasn’t in love with him, and it was hard enough knowing his best friend could get hurt, could die. But now? _Fuck._ They’ll always put themselves in danger, they’ll always do this, need this, answer the call. Loving Buck this hard is going to make Eddie go grey.

That, and navigating the after. _After_ the danger has passed, _after_ the adrenaline has been processed. _After_ , when there’s still work to do and he can’t hold Buck or be held, because they’re still on the clock, there are still lives at stake.

 _This is going to be hard_ , he thinks to himself, getting up on shaky legs and helping Buck, or being helped, he’s not sure. _This is going to be hard, but it’s worth it. Buck’s worth it. We’re worth it._

***

Later, when they get back at the station with only an hour left on their shift, Eddie’s too tired to pretend he and Buck are fighting.

One of his coworkers has a pretty bad concussion and the trips to hospitals are just back to back since he came to live in LA, each of them taxing beyond measure; he spent at least two hours holding a high pressure hose and his arms and shoulders are killing him; he thought for very long ten minutes that the man he loves was dead, and on top of that, he has not been able to hug him, or get hugged.

If he’s being honest with himself (and he’s trying to be since he started therapy), Eddie’s _this close_ to break down crying. That’s why, once they have restocked, showered and inhaled as much tikka masala left over as humanly possible, Eddie lets himself collapse practically on top of Buck on one of the couches upstairs.

Buck grunts at him, but doesn’t move away, heavy head falling on his shoulder and snuggling closer.

(The only way this could be better is if this was happening at home)

“ _OH FUCK NO!_ ” Chim voices cut through his relief.

They startle, not exactly apart, but enough that Buck and Eddie are no longer touching. Eddie opens his eyes to see the entire squad around them on the couches, plus Athena that followed them from the last call. Chim’s standing a few feet away from them with his hands on his hips, looking downright rabid, hair still damp and flat on his head.

(At home, _and without an audience_ )

“What?” Buck asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes, looking at everyone in confusion. The rest of the squad is also looking at Chim like he grew a second head, so they’re not the only ones confused.

“What? That’s all you guys have to say? _WHAT?!_ I’ll tell you what, you insufferable idiots, I am done with two!” Chim is fuming, hands turning into fists, before pointing at them like he’s about to sentence them to death.

Eddie blinks at him, before closing his eyes again, too tired for this. “Whatever it is, Buck did it,” he says, trying to find Buck’s warmth again against his side.

He immediately gets Buck’s elbow deep in his ribs for that and he opens his left eye so he can glare at Buck.

 _Worth it_.

“Chim perhaps you should let them, you know we can’t inter-” Hen starts, but he shakes his head, silencing her.

“I’m done with that fucking bet. _DONE!_ ” Chimney shouts, gesturing wildly at Buck and Eddie and _oh. This is why he’s so upset._ “They’re driving me mad!”

“Bet? _What bet?_ ” Buck asks, picture of innocence and incomprehension and Eddie snorts.

Bobby starts, “Chim-”

“No, little Buckaroo wants to know about the bet, so let’s talk about the fucking bet. The bet’s simple. It started with you getting that _big fat crush_ of yours on Eddie over there, the second he walked in.” Eddie chances a glance at Buck, and yep, his boyfriend is blushing. “Then we realised that _Mr. Emotional Constipation_ over there wouldn't be opposed to smooching you back. And we thought, _ah!,_ we actually thought you idiots wouldn’t be this thick, but here we are. TWO YEARS AFTER THAT! I can’t fathom how it didn't happen after the tsunami, ‘cause you guys were so close I thought you would elope or something.”

“ _Or something_ ,” Eddie mutters, eyes downcast and nervously picking at a throw pillow, wishing he could disappear inside the couch. That freaking lawsuit.

“And then you guys were back on your old married couple routine and it was _ki-lling-us_ . I mean when Eddie got trapped underground, I really thought something would happen! But noooooo! You guys are the worst! So there!” Chim pants for a few seconds, red faced and all, “ _Eddie, Buck’s in love with you!_ He tattooed something for your kid on his arm! _Buck, I know I keep teasing you about this, that you think he’s straight, but Eddie’s in love with you too!!_ He’s a possessive asshole that nearly ripped my head off for going to a tattoo parlor with you! And sure, he slept with that girl but- You guys are driving me and Maddie mad!”

There’s silence, everyone surrounding them looking at them, at Chim who has taken his head in his hands like all this is physically hurting him, anger and frustration _thick_.

It takes one look- _one look_ \- at Buck’s raised eyebrows and the way he’s having a blast for Eddie to lose it, bursting out of laughter, tension and fear and everything from that last call to bubble out and only leaves white noise and Buck’s huge grin in his head. He’s soon followed by Buck, and it’s hysterical that they managed to get _Chim_ so worked up; that they’re finally together and they can laugh at themselves and each other like this. His stomach and cheeks are aching, eyes tearing up at the absurdity of it all, and it’s so, so good.

“Oh my God, it’s not funny!” Chim says, so damn pissed and it just makes Eddie laugh harder.

“But it is-” Buck snorts against Eddie’s shoulder, “it is because- oh my God, _Eddie I can’t-_ ”

Eddie can’t even articulate a single word and just keeps on laughing, slapping Buck’s thigh.

“You’re already together, aren’t you?” Athena’s voice cracks like a whip and they laugh at that too, at her indignant face, because she’s not used to being laughed out. How revolted she sounds! 

“What-” “no that’s impossible-” “what about the bar chick-” come from all around her, everyone looking at them.

“ _Ding ding we got a winner!_ ” Buck hollers, putting a possessive arm over Eddie’s shoulders, and popping a loud kiss on his cheek, _finally_. “Congrats ‘thena, you won the bet!”

And he and Eddie dissolve into giggles again. “Though g-good luck finding that- damn money!” Eddie adds before Athena can truly enjoy her win, her smug face falling at his words.

“Wha-”

And the station explodes into demands of restitution of the box and its content.

***

In the end, everyone gets a cut, but just because Athena is scary and has a badge and there’s plenty of money for everyone.

  
  


In the end, everyone is happy for them.

Bobby cries a little, hugging them one at a time. “You’re so damn stupid I was losing hope,” he says softly to Eddie, patting him on the shoulder. “It seems unfair to rob you of the realization, though.”

Eddie just nods, ‘cause it’s true.

  
  


Athena threatens them both. “ _Do not fuck this up_ ,” is all she says, but the way she says it, cop voice on and hands on her utility belt…

Buck actually tries to take a step back, but Eddie forces him to stay with him, scared for his life.

“Great shovel talk” “You’re not the boss of us” they say at the same time, before giggling when she rolls her eyes, but Eddie sees how hard she smiles as she turns around.

  
  


Chim facetimes Maddie as soon as he gets over being mocked for losing it so hard. The both of them cry when Chim tells her her dumb brother is no longer desperately single. “WAIT!” he gasps, and whips around to them. “What about the hot chick that mauled you?!”

Maddie asks, confused, “what hot chick?”

“ _I'm the hot chick that mauled him_ ,” Buck says proudly, pinching Eddie’s ass.

“Eww gross I don’t want to know!” Chim shouts. “Stoooop!”

Buck shakes his head at him. “YOU. ASKED.”

“NO PDA IN THE FIREHOUSE!” Chim begs, but not them. _He begs Bobby_. “FORBID IT!”

Buck's only answer is to shove his tongue down Eddie’s throat, both of them grinning through it, groans and wolf whistles all around them.

  
  


Hen says, looking so sweet, so _deceptively_ motherly, “Now that you morons have sorted out your feelings, you better help with the LAFD pride float on weekends, or else…”

“Or else what?” Eddie tries, worried. He doesn’t want to wear a skimpy outfit in the middle of the street, no thank you.

“ _You don’t wanna find out,_ ” she threatens them with a smile. “Saturday, eight sharp. I’ll text you the info.”

  
  


In the end, Buck and Eddie drive _home_ in the same car, leaving Buck’s jeep behind at the station. They don’t even talk about it, don’t have to ask. The drive back would be too much time apart right now. There will be days, weeks, months to get used to this, but this brand new thing? Eddie’s fine with it consuming him for a while. He has all the time in the world to learn to be apart from Buck now that he has him.

(In the end, they win the bet)

***

***

***

“Hey Evan?”

“Wha-” his voice is croaky with sleep, so damn soft Eddie could be hearing things or could be dreaming of miracles. But there’s a warm body hugging him for dear life all around him, grounding.

This is now. This is real. This won’t shatter in the morning.

Eddie smiles in the dark, before kissing whatever skin he can find. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Telling me. Taking a chance,” he snorts, emotions running high and he can feel the pinpricks of tears in his eyes. “For betting on us.”

Buck yawns, more than half asleep, and when he speaks, it’s not a big declaration, not grand or loud or poetic. It’s simple, it’s true. It’s just what Eddie needs. “Any day, Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY  
> near 50k under a month _jesus_ and since i have no control, after the finale, I'll start writing the sequel!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you loved it, kudos and comments are ALWAYS a good way to show it, here, on [tumblr](http://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/AngryGuii)! Check my [fic tag](https://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/tagged/w) for updates and rambling :)
> 
> Feedback is love ❤


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